The Allure of Edridion
by Skar'ku Mar'kel-ja
Summary: The Edridion System is a place full of mystery and danger... A place eluted of law and order so only the strong survive. The story is about two characters coming head to head in this dangerous planetary system. Flinch Spacey, a hiveless fugitive on the run from his past. And A'ka'an, a Yautja Covert Operative who is on a mission that soon proves a challenge even for his skills...
1. Prologue: Past Present Future?

This is a co-written between myself and 'Christoman' of Deviant Art.

The story takes a different look at the universe through the eyes of a rogue hive male and the first son of the lead character from A Lethal Pact, Syn. It is pretty much based in the same 'universe' as A Lethal Pact, with a few variations to suit Christoman's character, Flinch Spacey, those who have read my works will know of the references in this piece.

It may not be what some readers would expect, it was certainly a first for me, but I like the way this is planning out, so we will absolutely continue it. Flinch Spacey takes the normal 'role' of a Xenomorph and pretty much turns it on its head and sets it on fire, and as for the Yautja character, he is the son of Syn'kra-va'al, enough said!

Enjoy, and please feel free to comment / offer critics where applicable.

* * *

Prologue: Past… Present… Future?

A'ka'an-dra hadn't always embraced his heritage as perhaps he should have, but being born into the O'ka'an faction of the Dark Blade Clan _did_ have certain advantages. Though his blood Elders had always given him firm, fair and consistent guidance and a healthy upbringing, they set quite high standards. Both his parents, Syn'kra-va'al and Ju'lyn-zal (more privately known as Cassandra), were still regarded as the most elite Operatives the Yautja world of O'ka'an had to offer. From a very young age, A'ka'an-dra's father, Syn'kra-va'al, had earned the widely respected epithet, Thei-de Ka'antyra or _'Deaths Whisper'_.

Such a reputation was matched only by his mother's wit and vast knowledge; albeit, the power of thought was not her only ally. Both Master ranked operatives were unnaturally gifted in their own unique ways. For decades, many whispered behind the turned back of a would be ally, rumors of superstition… unsanctioned power… unnatural advantage… Believing he had at first been part of a cursed blood line, these gifts had furthermore been passed onto their first son, A'ka'an-dra.

As a male of two hundred and twenty six, A'ka'an-dra was merely coming into his prime, and much like his father, had trained his body from a very young age to the very limits of physical ability, and then beyond. As he had grown and pushed past barriers, both mental and physical, only then had he discovered the abilities passed onto him were nothing to be taken lightly. He had heard many a skeptical rumor through other Yautja while he was growing, training, some intended, some otherwise. But when the first time came for him to embrace his legacy, it would change the Yautja male's life forever…

As had been expected by many, the very day following his braiding ceremony, A'ka'an-dra had been officially drafted into the ranks of the Dark Blade Clan. Though he had spent his entire life _prior_ to coming of age training both mentally and physically to surpass his parents, this precursor did not make things any easier. Thankfully a strong mind had helped to discard much of the rumour and speculation that preceded him wherever he may have been. As an underling, A'ka'an-dra had often sought comfort from the words of the ancient Blade Master, Bre'ta'ak, who had selected and trained his father, Syn'kra-va'al, centuries prior.

With only one goal in mind, the wiry young male had pushed through the trials and tribulations to become a fully fledged Covert Operative. Over the next few decades, A'ka'an-dra had driven himself to new limits, discovering more of his hidden talents as he aged. When alone off-world, or on missions, A'ka'an-dra would often deliberately force himself into life threatening situations to condition his powerful frame. In time, the first son of Syn'kra-va'al had soon decided that the O'ka'an faction of the Dark Blade Clan could no longer provide him the challenge he desired. His parents had both known this day would come, A'ka'an-dra was much too powerful to contain, not in a physical sense, but more in essence, he knew what he wanted, and he would stop at _nothing _until he was satisfied.

There was little more than his blood clan bonding A'ka'an-dra to the planet of O'ka'an, and even then he knew that he would return home when opportunities presented themselves. That being so, the promising young Covert presented himself, with great recommendation from several other major Ruling Bodies, to the Council of Leading Yautja as an independent 'specialist'. The Council, located upon Yau'te Prime, was known as the political centre of the greater Yautja systems. It was these Elders A'ka'an-dra would now serve, no subsidiaries, his missions came directly from the Council, to him. With no boundaries, other than the great moral instilled by his parents, A'ka'an-dra was now free to take on any challenge that presented itself, and missions from the Leading Council were always aplenty, especially for a Yautja of his caliber…

* * *

'… Another noisy Yau'te cantina, awaiting another intelligence contact… Perhaps another drink…' A'ka'an-dra thought to himself with a smirk. Although he looked lighthearted enough, his razor sharp mind was cataloguing everything his senses were taking in.

The Yautja specialist's mother, Ju'lyn-zal, had always drilled into him the great need of developing a reliable network of intelligence contacts. Well, as reliable as one could hope for in the industry of a covert operative. Though following his mothers own mental prowess was a challenge for any being, A'ka'an-dra was far from being naïve enough to believe anything he heard, especially from an informant or contact…

"My apologies, 'Shadow' my duties kept me from the time I promised…"

A'ka'an-dra looked up from where he sat as a familiar voice spoke loudly over the babbling of many other Yautja that populated the cantina. The specialist blushed slightly at the use of the name 'Shadow' but accepted the forearm offered to him, greeting the newcomer in the traditional Yautja manner. In his other hand, the guest balanced two C'ntlip bowls rather precariously, offering one to his associate. The pair sat together, A'ka'an-dra analyzing everything about the male that now accompanied him at the small corner table. Although his senses were sharper than most, A'ka'an-dra's ability to scent characteristics, above and beyond many others proved more useful than one could imagine. He accepted the C'ntlip bowl without further hesitation and took a short draught before he spoke.

"I do sincerely hope you have something else for me, Ba'nu-ka?"

"Of course, when have I let you down?" he replied, his nervousness becoming instantly obvious upon his scent

"Would you like me to recall just how many times you have let me down…?"

"Point made…" Ba'nu-ka took a big mouthful from his drink before placing it back down upon the table and holding up both hands, feigning innocence. "Directly to business then…"

The pair leaned closer to speak, as to make sure they were not overheard, to a random glance, it may have looked rather suspect. But if one was to cast an eye around the large bar room, there were at least a dozen other suspicious looking Yautja doing very much the same thing. An associate to several Elders from the central Yau'te Clan known as 'Ku-rel', Ba'nu-ka was not much older than A'ka'an-dra, but like most who actually knew the name Shadow, knew very well what the younger male was capable of. Ba'nu-ka cleared his throat.

"As it stands, my superiors have a task much suited to your unique abilities. Though I must mention, it is in the Edridion system…"

"Many opportunities there are in the Edridion system, Ba'nu-ka; Edridion Prime is a literal haven for any being of any species who wants to make a living, illegally. Upon my last visit, the bounty boards were teeming with contracts."

"Eight hundred thousand credits..." Ba'nu-ka quietly replied, taking a sly sip of his C'ntlip

"Eight?" A'ka'an-dra's eyes widened, it was quite a rare occurrence for the well trained operative to actually show emotion.

"That is quite the reaction I was hoping for." Ba'nu-ka smirked

"What are the details…?" asked A'ka'an-dra, almost dreading the answer, if the Ku-rel were offering that much, there had to be a reason

"Higher Elder Gu'n-ka is travelling to Edridion Prime for the annual Power Sled racing finale, as you may well know; he takes great interest in… ridiculous carnage."

A'ka'an-dra thought for a moment, working over possible scenarios inside his head. After a short mouthful of C'ntlip, he stared right into Ba'nu-ka's eyes.

"Who is threatening to kill him…?"

"How do you do that…?!" the older of the two shook his head in disbelief

"Common sense… None would pay an amount as much as that for a simple escort. Answer the question." A'ka'an-dra replied shortly

"Xa'antu…"

"Fantastic this is, the largest union of bad bloods spanning this galaxy, and you want me to step in front of them…? What of your own warriors? Surely they are capable enough."

"The remaining members of the Ku-rel Council think it prudent to have a Yautja of your capacity close by. You know the problems we have had with the Xa'antu in the past, and now they are close to ruling Edridion Prime, it is not farfetched to think they would strike at such an opportune moment."

"A simple solution I have…" A'ka'an-dra drained his C'ntlip bowl as he got to his feet, looking back down at his contact. "Prevent him from going. It will be cheaper and less hassle."

"No one tells Gu'n-ka what to do… He has been attending the Sled racing for countless decades, never missing an event. That is not an option."

"Then just hope the Xa'antu do not wish him dead…"

"Will you at least give it some thought…?" Ba'nu-ka called after him

* * *

"_Life is your prey, attack it as you please, and your reward will be satisfaction…"_

These words were the fundamentals of a Xenomorph whose actual _experience_ with living was only a recent contribution to their life. Flinch Spacey was just the kind of hive male, who would try to build a solid second floor on a wonky first floor. Always replacing his deepest thoughts with irrelevant fiction he concocted from pop culture that he had picked up from numerous worlds, many of which he had forgotten, or was trying hard to.

Though he lived largely in the moment, there was certainly something to be said for his former years… A lot like sticking your hand into a blender really… Makes a right mess of everything and you are left wondering what the hell happened….

He was born of a loving Queen into a world made especially for his kind, but this world taught him a valuable lesson. He became an example to all captive Xenomorph who live long enough to see reality…

"_Seeking to put one's self above all life is not a bad thing, if you make something out of it"._

Flinch, being a firm believer in whatever doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger certainly lived by these words, to the best of his abilities, none the less. His hive, controlled by a Industrialized Yautja Collective known as the 'Hecuzer Clan', in many ways, created him, molded him into what he is to this day. Being a male, a Hive Guardian, he was of no particular use, so he was used, for lack of a better word, as a training dummy. He became the victim of extreme physical abuse, not to mention the intense psychological scars he was duly rewarded from the clan's leader, Mal'to.

But even in the darkest moments of his life, Flinch managed to show his resolve. His captors learnt just how clever he was. After ambushing and killing several key scientists, he managed to escape the research compound singlehandedly. Though upon learning of his rapid self segregation from the Hive Mind, Mal'to mercilessly slaughtered the Matriarch in a cold blooded attempt to lure Flinch back to the Hive, knowing he was still susceptible to the whispers of the others that called him back. However, knowing what had to be done, Flinch blocked his thoughts to the Hive Mind, fuelled with the design that one day, he would kill every single one of the Yautja that had brought peril to his Hive.

The death of his mother is one thing that the Hive Male struggles to this day to accept, a Xenomorphs mother is variable god, and the day a Xenomorph has to find out that their god can be slain, is a day not many live passed. With sanity intact at least…

* * *

Now free from the oversight of the Hive Mind, not to mention, the abuse of the Hecuzer, Flinch makes his own path, lives life to the fullest extent, and makes a few bucks on the side when he can. Though on the flip side, the Hecuzer Alpha, Mal'to, sees Flinch's escape as a great dishonor to his clan as well as his bloodline. He placed a bounty so large on his head that Yautja hunters from many worlds, as well as mercenaries, bounty hunters and every other scumbag heard the call.

Flinch's rough nature and aggressive humor is a thing all who meet him take away with them, exasperated rumors had even spread about some of his adventures as well. To the point where he has become more of an urban legend, fighting along Predator / Human hybrids, surviving a Civil Wars, and a Yautja kill counter few Xenomorphs could only dream of. But his fame was far from its peak, yet alone far from being a legend; his name normally came up in more recent time, when drunken bounty hunters spoke of making quick credits, with no questions asked.

* * *

"_The Capital Power Sled Track on Edridion Prime had an eerie silence in the lead up to its final race of the season. During closed hours, the wind danced and twirled through the artificial valley created by the two massive viewing stands that loomed either side of the track, kicking up small dust storms. While in the stands themselves, the dust from the track blew against the heavy wire fences like waves striking a rugged shoreline of some desolate Cliffside beach."_

Flinch rested his back against the wall beside the main entrance of the stadium, with one leg crossed lazily over the other. The attending staff had already left for the day; they had no doubt been exceptionally busy preparing for the season finale, a huge event that would start shortly after first light the following day. In his right hand he held a small pebble from the large, well travelled dirt roads leading into the stadium, gently tossing and catching it with persisted timing. His long brown duster jackets flaps hung motionless from the lack of wind in his current, semi sheltered spot. The hive male had a strange look on his face as it gave the impression he was expecting someone.

"And they say I'm an untrustworthy bastard…" he mumbled to himself with a slight snicker.

"… I say so too, Parasite…"

Flinch shook his head chuckling, letting the rock fall to the ground as he instinctively shifted his weight to his trailing foot, ready to pounce, reducing his victim to waste at the first sign of trouble. He opened his outer jaws slightly to get a better look at the figure that had just rounded the corner of a nearby building and was making its way toward him, a proud, overly confident smirk plastered all over its ugly, misshapen face. Edridion Prime was home to countless species' of scumbags, like God's own personal turd collection. This one happened to be a male from the race of meta-humanoids known as the 'Zabrak'.

"You sure know the perfect time to show you ugly face around here, Zabrak" Flinch replied.

"The names _Wil_, Mr. Spacey…" the Zabrak replied with a raised eyebrow.

The two exchanged a quick handshake before keeping a distance and getting down to business, Wil seemed insulted by Flinch's lack of respect in his posture, laying casually on a wall grinning. Wasting no more time, the hive male swished his tail around to scratch the side of his head.

"So is it a yes? You're boss willing to do business?" Flinch asked as he folded his arms, his tail still moving independently

Wil slowly gave a smile as his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, giving a look that almost certainly said he knew how this was going to end.

"The boss will do business with you, but you gotta be prepared to pay up when your sled loses, understand…?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it all here, all cash, all untraceable…" Flinch replied with a subtle, yet cheeky smirk on his face.

"You got the cred? That's good. That means you get to walk away from this deal not minus any teeth Bug…"

Flinch let his inner jaws emerge, wearing a proud grin on his face before snapping them threateningly at the newcomer.

"Maybe try cutting something out that won't shed any tears on your behalf" Flinch added.

Wil slowly pulled a long cigarette from his left sleeve and a lighter from his right, as he lit it Flinch tilted his head at the smell. Without taking his eyes from the Zabrak male, he could smell the chemicals from the burnt jooba weed, a common alternative to cloned tobacco in these parts. He hissed in disgust at the smell that insulted his fine tuned senses.

"You know what, I won't bother, those death sticks should do my job just fine" he said as he gave a soft, almost mocking chuckle.

"You got one chance Spacey, to make it or break it in this system, if your tip off doesn't get it up, we expect full payment. Immediately, no excuses from either of those mouths." Wil sneered taking a long drag on his cigarette. "We all heard about you, everyone knows about you… How you hustle people outta cred, then bail before they can catch you… Cowardly… Not a smart move for one as wanted as yourself."

"Perhaps…" Flinch shrugged once, "Then again, maybe all you criminals are just as fucking stupid as each other, no matter where I end up… Certainly as ugly, that's a no brainer…"

"Ain't no place you can hide around here Bug, you fuck us, and we will scale the universe to find you, don't you doubt that for a second…" Wil spat, his voice slightly distorted in part to the cigarette in his mouth. He took one more long drag of the chemically altered jooba weed before flicking it to the ground at Flinches clawed feet and casually walking off down the deserted roadway.

"Really…?" Flinch looked to his feet for a second, "Didn't your mother teach you any manners…? Shit stick! I was talking to you…!"

Without warning the Zabrak spun around, reaching for his weapon. Even though he was a rogue, Flinch still possessed a great deal of the frighteningly aggressive speed that his kind were known and feared for. He was on Wil in a flash, both hands clasped around the Zabrak's throat, his razor sharp claws digging into the skin around its neck.

"Go on… Take that pistol out and see what happens…" Flinch hissed with malice, his tail suddenly flicking up from nowhere, the razor sharp point hovering mere millimeters from Wil's right eye ball. He snapped his inner jaws menacingly. "And tell your boss, the next time he wants to try and intimidate me, send someone whose face doesn't look like a mutated cheesecake…"

Flinch shoved the Zabrak away, and pointed up the road with both his right hand and his tail blade.

"Now scuttle back on home to your Daddy, shit stick … And don't you fucking look back…"

Flinch kept his cocky grin on as he laid back against the wall, folding his arms with a satisfied growl. Though as Wil disappeared from sight, he felt an anxious rush rising in his chest, he turned to the wall and laid his head against, taking deep breaths as a feeling of fear crept up his spine.

"Oh fuck me" he said in a wheezy voice. "If that sled doesn't make a podium finish…" he left the sentence hanging, not wanting to admit the outcome to himself. "Common luck don't let my ass down this time…"


	2. Outlaws Guide to Edridion Prime

Chapter 1: Outlaws Guide to Edridion Prime…

A'ka'an-dra gave a slight nod to two burly looking male doormen as he passed through the large entrance/exit of the noisy cantina where he had met Ba'nu-ka, one of the council contacts from the Ku-rel. The noise outside was similar, maybe slightly less, though from a sphere like Yau'te Prime, where most of its land mass was supporting a throbbing metropolis, it was to be expected. The young specialist sighed to himself, as he made his way into the bustling, early evening crowds. He took to his trade even without thinking about it, his senses working in seamless cohesion with his mind, analyzing, comparing, cataloging…

It wasn't an unnatural thing for a well trained operative to act in such a manner, but when such behavior had been part of their training since almost before the ability walk, it became quite a powerful survival tool. T'yka, the district of Yau'te Prime where A'ka'an had met his contact, was not known for its hospitality. Though it was not the _worst_ district around, it certainly wasn't made any better by the villainy, Clan feuds and black market dealings taking place on nearly every corner. There were only two things stopping any random bad blood on the hunt for serious credits from just walking through the crowds and knifing the young specialist. One; the chance of success was very low and Two; _if_ successful, the Yau'te Council Elders would soon see the culprit suffer, _dearly_ for murdering their favorite 'toy'.

A'ka'an-dra's father, Syn'kra-va'al, had never been too impressed with the forfeiture of his sons declaration to the Dark Blade Clan, though only he and the young specialists mother could ever hope to understand why he was the way he was. Contradictory to his father's thoughts on the matter, the advantages certainly outweighed those if he had stayed with the O'ka'an faction of the Blade Clan. It was common knowledge that the O'ka'an faction had _long_ regained its rightful place amongst the Yautja worlds. Though not before a very controversial time involving the dishonor of Syn'kra-va'al, who now was one of the highest ranking Yautja Operatives the Blade Clan had in their ever increasing ranks.

Strolling through the crowds, A'ka'an half smiled to himself as he thought of the rant his father had first let loose upon hearing about his first sons decision. The resulting argument had nearly blown into a fully fledged duel, and though he _was_ actually looking for more of a challenge, that was one even he could not hope to win. Even now, nearing the age of five hundred and fifty, his father was not to be underestimated in combat of any kind. A veteran of more missions, not to mention, straight out battles than he could remember, Syn was still a very powerful force to be reckoned with.

Essentially it was A'ka'an's mother, Ju'lyn-zal, who had prevented the two from clashing. She shared many traits with her mate, but had always been renowned for her amazing mental prowess. Not much younger than her mate, Ju'lyn-zal still spent a lot of her time at O'ka'an's Dark Blade compound, training. Not herself, but underlings, and some of her own children, from a very young age. Here Ju'lyn-zal was revered for her tactical analysis, and razor sharp, battle tuned senses, she would run groups of many different ages, teaching them the basis of being an efficient stealth operative. She specialized in advanced field tactics, everything from psychological analysis and manipulation through to changing plans on the fly, and making the most out of any situation, as even the best laid plans can come undone. Ju'lyn-zal also taught young Yautja how to _think_, and to make use of their natural ability to train their senses. Even though her specialty was not so much based upon physical training and conditioning, she still looked as active as ever. And was certainly not above putting an underling in their place should the situation arise…

* * *

When the communication frequency he was attempting connection with finally answered, a warm smile flashed up on the main projection display of A'ka'an-dra's personal shuttle. He answered with a loving smile of his own, always happy to see his mothers warm golden eyes, without even trying, he could always remember her scent, it was as if she was sitting right next to him.

"A'ka'an!" she clicked, "You are leaving contact between us too long…"

"I apologize, mother, Yau'te has been keeping me rather busy."

"I have no doubt…" she grinned knowingly, knowing the life of an active operative all too well. "Have you been taking care of yourself? You look tired…"

"I am fine, N'ka-ru'te." He grinned, using the well known appellation beseeched to his mother by a pair of Yautja researchers who were regarded as extended family.

The name N'ka-ru'te meant 'Changeling', from her ability to adapt to any covert situation almost seamlessly, that was the meaning given to ninety nine point nine percent of Yautja. The other point one percent knew her by another name entirely. But they would keep their mouths shut…

"You have been training?" he continued, noticing her breathing slightly elevated

"Indeed, the summer weather here draws near its end, your father and I have been making the most of it by training the twins." She beamed with pride at the mention of her two youngest children; twins in Yautja society were somewhat of a rarity.

"How are they progressing…?"

"They grow quickly, and are learning at an even faster rate!"

Without warning two heads appeared in the crystal clear holographic image, wearing smiles almost as big as their mothers. X'yn-ka, an agile young male and N'yn'ka, his sister both aged six years.

"A'ka'an!" they both yelled in unison

"X'yn-ka! N'yn'ka! Evening greetings, small parasites!" the young specialist mocked them playfully

"You are a parasite!" retorted N'yn'ka baring her tusks playfully

"A'ka'an, father taught us Shadow Techniques today!" X'yn-ka stated with a proud grin.

"Really…? At only five turns…?"

"He did, and I beat N'yn'ka!

"I should watch myself; soon you will be able to defeat _me_ in a duel!"

"Beat me you did not!" N'yn'ka piped up, "You cheated, always you cheat!"

Before anyone could say another word N'yn'ka exploded with a burst of speed, tackling her brother out of the projection radius. Sounds of scuffling and growling could be heard in the background, both A'ka'an-dra and his mother laughed together.

"Busy they must keep you…" chuckled A'ka'an

"You have no idea." Ju'lyn-zal shook her head, cringing slightly as there was a loud crash followed by the muffled cries of X'yn-ka. "I will deal with them… Here is your father."

Still in the range of the projection scanner, Ju'lyn-zal turned to her mate as he approached and bent down slightly to nuzzle her cheek affectionately against his before stepping away from their personal console. Syn'kra-va'al smiled shamelessly at his oldest son, looking slightly more windswept than usual.

"Pup! What a semi pleasant surprise…!" he teased

"I wish the same could be said about your ugly face, old fossil…" A'ka'an replied with a grin

"If only your limbs were as fast as your wit! Two hundred odd years, and I have never lost a duel to you!"

"That is because, for two hundred odd years, old one, I have _let _you win…!"

Syn'kra-va'al threw his head back and laughed, he was never hesitant to tease his first son, as he knew A'ka'an would give it right back. Over and above being father and son, the pair were very close friends, even if A'ka'an-dra did forfeit his declaration to the Blade Clan.

After a few more minutes of idle chatter and another two interruptions by the twins, A'ka'an finally got both of his parents without interruption. They listened intently as he explained the offer from the Ku-rel Clan of Yau'te Prime.

"I cannot think of any reason why the Xa'antu would risk wanting to silence that lazy idiot, Gu'n-ka…" Syn furrowed his brow slightly

"Nor can I," replied Ju'lyn-zal, "The Xa'antu span many systems, they have the backing of many clans. From what I know of the Ku-rel, they hold no threat. Do they really expect you to take their word for this rubbish…" it wasn't really a question, more a statement of disbelief

"No, but it is not a hidden fact that he was seeking out more of a challenge when he left the Blade Clan…" Syn added, turning to meet the golden eyes of his mate, the warmth now replaced with a hard distain.

"Tell me you are not that stupid…" Ju'lyn-zal shook her head looking directly at her son

"The credits greatly outweigh the risk..." A'ka'an paused to wait for his mother's argument, surprisingly, it did not come. "I have already discovered much of the Ku-rel, and you are absolutely right, they are no threat to any Yautja. Merely a slightly above average hunting clan…"

"And like to find out you would, why such an average clan is willing to pay eight hundred thousand credits for a Protector…?" Ju'lyn-zal glared at her son. "Not even an Elite Rylt'ah would gather such an earning for an entire year of service, let alone for one mission!"

"Is there a chance this is more about _you_ than Gu'n-ka…? Syn raised an eyebrow as he asked the question. "I know you are very adept at your deception _and_ stealth tactics, but you have caused quite a stir among many clans, if some have discovered your true identity, this could be an attempt on _your_ life."

"It would not be the first…" A'ka'an-dra shrugged dismissively, "I understand your concern, but believe me, I have been working alone, without the backing of a clan for a long time. I can handle this, trust me."

"You are right. You have not had the backing of a clan… You have had the backing of the entire _Yau'te Council_!" snapped Ju'lyn-zal folding her arms over her chest. But A'ka'an was too headstrong, both his parents knew this and though they had accepted it years ago, he was still hard to deal with at times.

"Just be safe…" Syn clicked softly, "Use your instincts, they have always served you well."

"How long before you leave for the Edridion system…?" asked Ju'lyn-zal, not really bothering to hide her displeasure.

"I am on my way as we speak…" A'ka'an sighed

"Just…" his mother sighed. "Be observant, and…" she paused to look over her shoulder, making sure they were alone before lowering her voice. "Keep _it_ under control…"

* * *

The streets of most sectors on Edridion Prime were always full of life in the early hours of the morning; the sun just high enough to set a dawn gaze over the vast, low lying building complexes. The gentle heat of the morning sun coaxed many different scents into the air, cooking food, dried blood, the smell of burnt atmosphere as shuttles and transport vessels came into land... Every suburb had its own unique aroma.

The first light also set the mood for most organised crime, and some _un_-organised. The busy streets around the main Edridion Market place, and several other smaller markets usually filled quickly with both local and off world vendors and customers alike. As soon as night was at its final hours, as the last of the night life died into the light, the massive Edridion Market came to life. Stalls were erected, or those vendors who could afford it opened the doors of their small shop fronts while shuttles landed in the permitted bays, or hovered overhead while they unloaded. This place was a literal haven for _anything_ you wanted.

Whether it was legal, or not...

If an item of popularity could be produced, you could bet your highest dollar that there was a scumbag on Edridion selling it half priced. Illegal activity was everywhere, no one was trying to hide it and that was what made the planet notorious. Not just to nearby systems, but to most beings galaxy wide. Everyone knew the name Edridion Prime, the large planet was home to just about any species you could imagine, and some you couldn't. Though the inception and history of Edridion Prime was a vague topic for most, it was common knowledge that it basically severed as a Petri dish for an advanced race known, unsurprisingly, as the Edridion.

Apparently their race, being so evolved, enjoyed the analysis of other cultures, so much so, that they took it upon themselves to build the basis of Edridion Prime, creating infrastructure, housing, the works. Then, once it was complete, they opened it for all and sundry who may be interested, very cheap housing, plentiful supplies, what could be more attractive?

Rumour spread _quickly_ and the large, dusty planet populated even faster still, so many had taken it upon themselves to create vastly detailed stories about this new paradise in the far Outer Rim territories. A place where _anyone_ could start a new life, a place with few laws, but for those few, there were grave penalties. The Edridion species were seldom seen in the light of day, but if you got under their radar, there was no getting out. Few had seen an Edridion Enforcer in the flesh; less had lived to tell of it.

So with only a 'little bit' (or none for those without concern) of restriction, Edridion Prime quickly blossomed into the bustling, violent, though often fruitful shithole it became known to be. From importing and exporting of illegal goods and services, weapons, drugs, slaves, literally _anything _was available to those with a decent credit to their name. And if one happened to be a little skint at the time of need, there was always a loan shark around the next corner. _And_ when it came to time to fail paying back what you owed, there was a literal army of mercenaries to choose from. The glorious circle of life; Edridion Style...

* * *

As the sun lifted and the heat began to intensify, the morning smog set a hazy contrast over most of the smaller, outer lying residential areas and suburban markets. Though that only encouraged the flow of bustling crowds rushing from far and wide shuffling quickly down the sides of the wide, dusty streets. Transportation was frequent, not to mention free to ride, the large hovering platform transports ran routes from most of the outer suburbs, converging at the Edridion Market. Most new comers tried to look inconspicuous when they travelled to Edridion Prime, but no matter how much you tired, you were kidding yourself. Everyone was up to no good, in one form or another.

Right outside the large marketplace stood what was known as the 'bounty board', a literal godsend for mercenaries, there was quite often a never ending list of 'jobs' people wanted done. They could be local or even in other star systems, either way, if you knew how to read through most of the crap, there was always a job handy. Depending on how suicidal you were.

Opposite the bounty board was a large, split level cantina, aptly named, The Bounty Board. For obvious reasons, if you wanted a mercenary, or at least an entry level merc, this was the place to start looking. As well as the guns for hire, The Bounty Board was usually filled to the brim with beings, species' of all varieties from the furthest reaches of space. Inside the tavern many forms of entertainment beckoned; poker, drinking, darts, a great variety of book makers and female companionship no outlaw could resist.

* * *

"Here you go! Thanks for the tip...!"

The tender at the lower bar of The Bounty Board let out a loud wheezy laugh as he slid a chilled bottle of scotch down the bar with unmatchable skill. Flinch Spacey, who was sitting on a bar stool at the far end of the bar, caught the bottle and popped it open without hesitation. Raising it to his mouth, he upended the bottle, downing nearly three quarters of its content at once. He gasped reluctantly from how fast he drank the bottle, but grinned at the strong warmth spreading through his stomach as he felt the alcohol kick in.

"Nothing like a semi-decent Scotch for breakfast...!" he growled to anyone who happened to be listening, and shook his head, "Gotta love having a fast metabolism..."

Flinch took another long draught, leaving merely a few drips in the bottom of the bottle. Without warning, he gave a loud screech and stretched backward, lobbing the empty bottle at the ceiling, smashing against a dangling light before falling backward off his stool and onto the hard floor. The sudden thud as he fell was almost unheard by the surrounding ambient noise, even at sunrise The Bounty Board was busy, a few heads turned, but quickly went back to their own business.

"Hey hey! Take your subsiding soberness outside, Insect!" The bartender said raising his voice.

"Holy Shit! It's as if someone poured fuel down my throat and lit a match!" Flinch clambered back up onto his bar stool and shook his head again. "WA-HOW!" He laughed, slamming his fists on the bar in utter delight.

"Tonight, I come back a rich insect barkeep... I got me the lucky power sled in Finals today, gonna pay me up big!" Flinch said as he leaned his back on the stool as his teeth in a big grin at the thought of what his winnings could by him.

"Rich is how I like my insects..."

Flinch tuned his head to see a tall, pale orange reptilian female leaning against the bar a few meters away. The hive guardian had seen quite a few of her species in the short time he had been on Edridion Prime, they called themselves the Tel'shak. They were humanoid in stature, apart from sporting a powerful tail, and were known to be very fast runners. Flinch eyed her as she slid over next to him, the sound of a paying customer exciting her. She wore quite a revealing tank top and tight, high cut short pants exposing anything below her thighs, though they were tight to the point where not a lot was left to the imagination. Her eyes fixed on Flinch as he gave a charming grin. Knowing she had his attention she moved with slow, seductive paces around to Flinch's right hand side, her tail swaying in time with her steps. The Tel'shak female ran her hands along his dark tail exciting him further, her busy hands got about half way down his tail before she saw the Hive male's pick up grin, turn to an uncomfortable look. As her hands continued to move across his scarred, damaged tail he was quick to swish it out of her grip and around to his left side. Now in a more comfortable position, he gave his head a tilt toward her, trying to impress her as he stretched his legs out, showing off all the gear he was carrying.

"You know, money can buy a lot of happiness, if you know how to spend it..." the female added, her shoulders swaying softly as her big yellow eyes locked onto Flinch's large, viciously clawed feet and moved up to his face.

"Money is a Xenomorphs greatest enemy babe... Wait... Now that I think of it. Money is everyone's greatest fucking enemy!" Flinch added as his head tilted backwards for a moment, then moved back onto the attractive reptilian who seemed more interested in him as each passing second went by.

"Really...? Is that why you have decided to place bets on the sled Finals?" She said followed by a deep sigh as her eyes fluttered over him and her delicate hands ran down her exposed belly, throwing him a very suggestive look.

"Freedom ain't cheap girl, you gotta go with what makes ya happy long term..." Flinch said pointing past the crowds to the door. "Or short term..." he grinned, turning his head to her and as he stretched his left foot out and gently twisted his stiff ankle.

"Well maybe some company can help you decide." she said as her hands ran along Flinch's right shoulder down to his large hand which was clutching onto the bench.

"Hmmmm... It's never let me down before..." he said as he shifted his weight and turned to face her.

Intrigued by the Xenomorph features Flinch possessed, she placed her left hand on the side of his neck, still keeping her eyes on his toothy grin, she slowly and gently slid her fingertips down his neck and over his chest, caressing him.

"Damn, baby, you ain't kidding when you say you can help..."

"Hey, Insect!" the bar tender bellowed out, "The race will be starting soon, if I was you, I'd get your ass down to the tracks." the bartender laughed as he cleaned the dust from some old mugs, all lined up on the bench.

Flinch's powerful vision swung from the female reptilian to the bartender, than to the clock behind him, he hissed in annoyance, he was late to meet a friend before leaving for the tracks.

"Fuck me..."

The female reptilian's eyes widened as she swung her whole body in front of Flinch and grabbed him by the shoulders, feeling the sudden physical contact Flinch spun around to see the female mounting him with a very seductive smile on her face. Flinch gave a hiss of confusion as her muzzle was mere millimetres from his glistening teeth, his head sank into his shoulders a little. Not that he was nervous of female attention, just with the sudden feeling of her hands clutching and rubbing her hands underneath his coat, all he could do was watch her. This was the first time he had seen a Tel'shak female up close, and he was mighty impressed.

"You sure as shit don't believe in wasting time do ya chicky...?" Flinch said as he shook his shoulders a bit to get comfy and swished his tail slightly. "Neither do I, usually, but as much as I would love to get a whole lot more closer than this, time is not on my side..." he sighed as he gently slid his arms out of her powerful hands, and then took a large step to the right, completely breaking loose from their entanglement.

"Well, if you're ever in the neighbourhood, drop by, Insect..." she said folding her arms underneath her generous breasts, pushing them up slightly, her tail waving lazily from side to side.

"The names Spacey, Flinch Spacey, see ya later chicky babe... Wait... You're not a minor are you...?" he asked with sudden suspicion

"Are you?" She replied as she blew him a kiss and walked very purposefully toward another group of men sitting toward the back of the large bar room.

Flinch gave a loud chuckle as he quickly shuffled his jacket and flicked the collar up, starting for the exit and toward the main street. He moved past crowds of thugs, other general scumbags and outlaws inconspicuously, not making eye contact with any of them. Anyone with a sharp eye would notice Finch was the only creature in the bar that seemed to ride solo, everyone else seemed to be in groups of three minimum. It was of no concern to the hive male, Flinch preferred only his shadow tailing him, in the capital of organised crime, perhaps it was for the best...


	3. Between Here and There

Chapter 2: Between Here and There

Having only taken two steps out onto the busy sidewalk Flinch had already spotted trouble in the streets, a brawl between seven or eight outlaws had drawn the attention of most of the bystanders, early morning killings over money, women, or territory proved to be a generally pleasant entertaining sport of Edridion Prime, but no matter, the hive guardian had places to venture, and people to meet.

Sliding his hands back into his pockets, he headed south across the street and dashed into a dark alleyway, the noise that was so common for the main streets soon faded into sounds of dripping water, and god knows what else. Flinch's feet tried to evade most of the mystery puddles, some of the most dangerous parts of Edridion Prime are the dark alleyways, but the hive male paid it no heed, it was in his blood to cherish the dark cramped spaces most people despise, often using them as a weapon.

He ventured deep down the confined spaces bouncing through several blocks, not passing a single _living_ creature before he reached another main road; however this street seemed almost abandoned compared the last. A four lane dirt road that was empty of vehicles and only a handful of people crossing it, Flinch was not interested in the traffic however, across the road was a large rundown office building surrounded by a decomposing fence, a large gate still served as its frontage. Several homeless creatures using the entrance to hang their items on, like a shelf of sorts.

Flinch swept across the road and made his way around the fence toward a well used hole, just big enough to squeeze through. He sniffed the air quietly as he made his way around the office building to the rearward section of the large lot, passing as vast range of decommissioned vehicles from many species. The sight provided a few moments intrigue for Flinch, who after a quick look, continued around to a rear loading dock of the office complex. As he neared, he spotted a large creature wearing an atmosphere filtration mask of some sort that covered his entire face, similar to that of a Yautja Hunter, its eyes glowing a bright green colour. The humanoid figure was wearing a black coat, with a hood over its head and was armed with a plasma based energy pistol, with no doubt a few other nasty surprises hidden on its large frame. He stood at the back door with his arms folded, watching Flinch move closer to him, the large being stood stock still, emotionless but from the pair of glowing eyes. But as he approached, Finch felt a surge of mistrust shoot through his spine at the scent of this well equipped creature. The door guard held his hand up as Flinch closed the distance between them, permitting the intruder to show him some identification.

Flinch shrugged and grinned as he held his hands up trying to look like he knew nothing about ID.

"Common mate, you know I work here, and you know how the boss is about late workers..." The doorman remained motionless; Flinch shrugged once, his tail blade flicking slightly. "No...? Well I look forward to your retirement party tonight. You've had a good run compared with most others..." Flinch said with a snicker as he went to grab the door handle.

The large being swiftly latched onto his wrist and pulled his arm away slowly shaking his head as he moved closer to Flinch, who was grinning like an over confident idiot.

"Relax, you fuckin' moose; I'm just yanking your chain..."

Using his free hand, Flinch slid his 'ID', which was no more than an order docket, out of his sleeve and into the creatures other hand. Looking at the piece of scrunched up paper; he gave a short grunt and stood out of the way, though still holding onto Flinch's wrist. He pulled forward and pushed him back as he opened the door, Flinch grunted as he was shoved into the building, drool dripping down his face, still grinning like he had just won the Final Series.

The interior was the building was a full contradiction of the outside. Teams of workers moved boxes around, sticking consignment notes to them yelling out to one another numbers and all sorts of coded phrases, like in a fast food restaurant. Flinch looked about before he spotted another example of the more common reptilian / humanoid species, the Tel'shak. Though much less attractive than the last one he had laid eyes on, this one was still a being worth keeping on the friendly side of the border. A male of the Tel'shak, he had the strong body of a worker, covered in tiny orange scales, wearing a short sleeved blue shirt and dark cargo pants. He was covered in oil and grease from head to foot.

"Mr Spacey! Mr Spacey! Over here!" the Tel'shak male waved Flinch over, a delighted grin on his face as he moved toward his customer, wiping his face down with a semi clean rag.

"Can you believe this shit?! The damn gears keep dropping out of mesh... I have a fucking business to run here!" he said waving a hand at a large conveyer belt which was ferrying boxes of all shape and size through the large complex.

"Maybe you should get into the gambling business Raketan, don't have to worry about any goddamn conveyor belts..." Flinch said as he gave a laugh, before turning back to the door.

"Yeah... _You _only have to worry about the Entak Crew..." Raketan smirked "I hope for your sake, that tip you have comes out on top, sharking from the fucking Entak is a good way to disappear."

"How in the hell did _you_ know about that?"

"You aren't my only client, Bug Bait...!" Raketan laughed, "I know plenty..."

"Yeah... Plenty..." Flinch mumbled, his tail flicking, "So what's with the G.I Jerk outside? He slow in the head or something...?"

"Oh god forbid, I'm paying him a fortune to keep jerk offs like you out of here Spacey! I'm surprised he let your insect ass in here in the first place, maybe I should give him a pay cut!"

"It was touch and go there for a couple of minutes...!" Flinch grinned, "I almost had to unleash on that Frankenstein looking mother fucker!"

"You wish..." Raketan laughed as he put an arm around Flinch's shoulders ushering him toward a large office.

Flinch chuckled quietly, he wasn't sure about what would _really_ happen if he tried to take the doorman down, he was definitely a big unit. Either way, it would be one to remember. The hive male hissed quietly as they entered Raketan's large office.

"Bloody hell, what would your wife say about this mess man? Christ my place is a shit hole an it looks cleaner than this dump." Flinch said as he chuckled, folding his arms.

"Well if you want to find somewhere else to buy weaponry be my guest..."

Raketan quickly pulled a large, leather clad folder from under a pile of random junk and flew through the pages looking for the page where Finch's details had been written. The rogue guardian grinned.

"When _are _you going to get with the times man... Get a console computer or something; surely it has to be easier than hand writing everything!"

"Bullshit..." Raketan mumbled, looking up from his folder. "The moment I get a console, one of those nasty little Edridion satellites will pop out of nowhere and fry my brain with some super fucking... 'Y-Rays' or some shit..."

"You are by far the most technologically retarded arms dealer I have ever met...!"

"But... I am still alive. I have been for years, as far as I know, and I intend to stay that way!" Raketan pointed to his large reptilian head, "No brain frying rays comin' near this skull, sweet heart..."

"Maybe some already have..." Flinch hissed with mirth

"Maybe they have... Maybe they haven't. You just make sure an' get them credits ready Bug Bait." The Tel'shak male grinned as he looked to a large wall behind him. The heavy racking supported many large storage of boxes. Counting to himself, he swished his large, powerful tail and pointed to a sealed shipping canister covered in yellow tape.

"There's your order Spacey" he said as he picked up a crowbar and lightly passed it to Finch.

"Now let's hope you stole the right shit man, would hate to have to return it to the guys you stole it from." Flinch said as he made his way down to box and dug the crowbar into the side.

"Hey this entire business is based on challenging all those '_big time'_, asshole mobsters who control the arms trade in this sector. Shit if they weren't so greedy, they would notice who was stealing their shit and selling it half price!" Raketan laughed.

Flinch quickly pried the box open and looked inside, his teeth set in a big grin as he wiped the drool from his face. He began emptying the box of old reproduction human weapons with delight, one after another Raketan watched nodding, satisfied he had done his job. The reproductions were a little hard to come by, they may have been primitive, but a lot of backwater humans still held their own with the old cartridge projectile weaponry. The reproductions were, in a lot of ways better than the originals, current production procedures allowed for much more accurate machining and setting up of the action assembly, not to mention the greater advancements in metallurgy, meaning a stronger product all over.

"Now, I can't let you walk out of here with all this shit Spacey, even human technology isn't all that cheap as it's hard to come by..." he said walking over to Flinch, holding a small data tablet looking through the information on all the weapons. "Here, I know you like this sort of tech crap... It came with the shipment." Shrugged Raketan, "Why would _I _deliberately steal a computer...?"

Flinch pulled out a Russian designed PPSh-43; he sighed pleasantly at the sight of a small, fully automatic weapon. The reproduction 43's looked much the same as the original, right down to the folding stock, though they weren't made primarily of stamped sheet metal like the Russians liked to do back in 1943. Most of the weapons were precision machined from ion-stabilised billet steels, the outer heat shield over the barrel and the thirty five round box magazines still started life as a sheet of steel, but were cold formed and heat treated afterwards. The much stronger action meant higher pressure cartridges could be used, this meant armour piercing rounds were an option if one were so inclined. Though because of the open bolt style action, higher pressure rounds were not the safest option.

Raketan continued seeing as Flinch was more or less ignoring him in favour of his new toys.

"All the stuff marked 'Soviet' I'll let you take cheaper, say fifty credits plus ammo."

"A bargain huh...? How well is it in combat?" Flinch asked rubbing the barrel shielding of the weapon.

"It's not that old, most of the reproduction stuff is still in service on some of the more primitive... Human infested outer systems." Raketan laughed.

Flinch sat the small sub machine gun down and pulled out a much larger weapon, a rifle of some sort, sporting an actual wooden stock, a rare thing this day and age. Most of the rifles that were remanufactured all used a synthetic stock. He smiled happily, his tail swishing slowly as he held the weapon in both hands, levelling it and inspecting it for any damage.

"Now that there is a good all rounder weapon, in this case, it has been custom chambered to run specially made shells that only a few black market operators sell. They are a toxic round, laced with a pretty nasty poison, can drop a Yautja in about three shots." Raketan added as he walked over to Flinch and handled the weapon to show him what he was talking about. "I am pretty sure they sell the same rounds in a standard form, so you could still use it as a conventional rifle. They look a little smaller than your average rifle, yet with _this _chambering, it packs a decent punch, comes with the standard flip out bayonet, my favourite feature. And more so, ten round stripper clip magazines, of course I can assemble now, but it ain't anything too difficult for a bug such as yourself..." the Tel'shak arms dealer handed the weapon back to his client

"What's it called...?" Flinch said, still intrigued by the appearance of the rifle, his hand moving gently across the smooth wooden stock and up to the iron sight.

"This is an SKS gas operated reproduction, but I have no idea what the 'RF' means in the stock there..." Raketan said with a chuckle.

"I'm liking this weapon mate, I'll pay 60 credits down, plus 50 credits of ammunition." Flinch said as he sat the gun down.

"Whoa whoa whoa... You trying to scam the scammer Spacey?" Raketan argued still trying to seem friendly, though his scent told a different story

"Nah nah man, scamming you would be would be me taking the butt of this Rifle right here." Flinch replied, slapping the stock. "And pounding on your face until it renders you looking like a mashed up pile of Zabrak shit..." Flinch said as he began to pull out one hundred and ten credits from his jacket.

Raketan quickly grabs Flinch's hand to stop him from counting his cash as he puts on a fake laugh, still trying to make a joke out of his offer.

"Ha ha, Spacey... Common, let's talk real business here, this weapon would go for at least two hundred credits, I mean humans still use this rifle today, one of the most popular reproduction weapons by my fact book..."

"Be that as it may, my only offer is one hundred and ten, plus ammo." Flinch firmly states as he swishes his tail from side to side.

Raketan kept stalling for time, he started rubbing his hands together and shaking his head back at Flinch looking about as more customers came in.

"One hundred eighty" plus fifty credits worth of ammo, those are friend prices"

"Why is it I'm only your friend when we bargain, you sly asshole" Flinch said shaking his head.

"Common Flinch, I have been in this business for a long time, people come to me, because they know I will get them what they want. Leave it to me to give you a good deal, but I'm not gonna let you ream me at every turn!" he said with a laugh.

"Hey man, if I'm ever being an unfair prick, let me know." Flinch said as he placed his hand around Raketan's shoulder and moved his head close to his, his toothy grin widening even more.

Raketan stopped for a moment looking annoyed, he folded his arms and tried not to look the Xeno in the face as he felt pressured heavily, he wanted to make an extra few credits, but also wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He thought for a moment, if it came down to it, there were four pistols concealed in his office, and with the well known leg strength of a Tel'shak, he could easily put distance between the hive male and himself. Raketan, unfortunately was not one to back down from a sale.

"Fuck... One forty, take it or leave insect. No more bullshit." he said as he pulled out of Flinch's grip, stepping closer to one of the concealed weapons. "And stop trying to threaten me. It won't end well... For anyone."

"Stop being such a baby... You are in the arms trade, what's more, the _twice_ stolen arms trade. A little threat here and there will keep you on your toes!" Flinch grinned

"I suppose you will want this stripped and cleaned as well... I would tell you to piss off and do it yourself, but you would no doubt ruin a perfectly good weapon." He took the SKS rifle from the box and took it to a small table covered in paper and began to strip the weapon piece by piece.

"Sounds like a deal... Ammo included chum...?" Flinch asked as he tilted his head smiling, knowing he was just pissing the Tel'shak male into next week

"Yeah yeah... Ammo included..." sighed Raketan. "But only the basic shit, the chemical rounds you can go get from the market yourself. God you are fucking robbing me blind..." he said with half a smirk as he skilfully stripped the chambering piston and rod assembly from the firing action.

"Well now, you should be thankful you don't have some ex employee stealing from ya man." Flinch replied with a chuckle as he laid the money on the table and turned to gaze at all the work going on behind Raketan.

Boxes moved from conveyer to conveyer, filled with any weapon a creature could want, most of the stock was second hand, and all acquired _'very quickly' _as the Tel'shak male liked to say. What made Raketan even more notorious on the Edridion market was the fact that his shipments were stolen from some of the biggest and most dangerous arms dealers in the Outer Rim systems, while it did produce good money, the risk was incredibly high.

Raketan finished stripping and cleaning the weapon in no time, then began to store the components in plastic, moisture resistant canisters for Flinch. Although a little unstable, the Tel'shak's ability and knowledge of weaponry was truly inspiring, he had spent most of his early life selling weapons around the Edridion system. There was no gun he couldn't strip and fix, to a point, he did have a little aversion to Yautja weaponry, though, most other beings did as well, it usually wasn't a wise move to try and steal from the Yautja.

Raketan pulled out a small black duffle bag from under the counter top and sat it on the table as he placed the pieces in carefully. He looked around the table again for Flinch's contract and managed to lock onto the name at the top; he folded it up and handed it to his client. The Tel'shak male mused for a moment before pulling an instruction manual out of a draw on his desk and shoving it in Flinch's general direction. It was a small book, about the size of a pocket bible, maybe one hundred pages long.

"You _can_ read right?" Raketan asked as he moved over to another box on the large racking at the rear of the office and pulled out a large case with a yellow sticker on it.

"Shit yeah, I'm fucking poetry writing material... Of course I can't read!" Flinch said flicking through the pages of the small book.

"Well that puts you ahead of most of your species Spacey, so chill" Raketan chuckled.

He flung the case open with a flick of the combination and all lined up like dollar bills were the custom tooled cartridges for the SKS, unlike the normal round they had a dark blue projectile tip to mark the difference. Raketan pulled out six empty clips from Flinches order and sat them on the table, and began sliding live rounds into each one. Flinch watched, incredibly impressed by how fast he could do this, in less than thirty seconds he had loaded all the stripper clips and began placing them in the duffle bag, along with the remaining weapons.

"Keep your wits about you Mr Spacey, stripper clips will suck up your ammunition faster than... Well, faster than _you _at an open bar."

"I'm sure they do, that's why I need something that shoots fast man, my enemies don't have the courtesy to let me reload, fuckers..." he said laughing as looked inside the bag, making sure everything was accounted for.

"One more thing..." Raketan began, rubbing the underside of his lower jaw, "What do you know about the _Xa'antu_..."

"Never heard of it... Should I have...?"

"I am not surprised, not many are familiar with them, or their dealings. They are a Yautja criminal syndicate..."

"Oh... That's just out of this fucking _world_ fantastic...!" Flinch hissed sarcastically

"These aren't your day to day bad blood, mercenary types... They _know _what they are doing. They are well fucking organised, sneaky bastards, and have a foot hold in a _shit _load of active Yautja clans."

"Just when I needed to hear about _another _group of crab face, meat heads coming after me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Spacey, they have no interest in you, I can guarantee that. Don't take this the wrong way, but the reward on you is pocket change to these bastards." Raketan held up a large scaled hand, stopping Flinches response. "They aren't seen, they aren't heard of, no bugger knows about them because they use other clans to do their dirty work. Even their own kind hate them, but they are so well networked, and their numbers are so vast, that it would be almost impossible to take them down."

"So why are you telling me this shit... If they aren't a threat to _me_ then what do I care?"

"They may not be a threat to you yet, but they are in the middle of a power play, to take pretty much all the big time players here down. If that happens, they will bring other clans, affiliated to them to do their dirty work. This place could end up with _a lot _more Yautja running around."

"Thanks for the heads up..."

"Just be careful..."

"Oh that's cute..." Flinch cooed, mocking Raketan, "Don't think that will get you into my pants. I can look after myself."

"In your dreams... Now get the hell out of here Spacey, your scaring off my customers!" he replied with a chuckle

"What customers? I'm the only damn guy who comes back to your expensive store." he joked making his way to the door, teeth bared in a characteristic grin, before exiting with a flick of his tail, swinging the bag over his left shoulder.

Raketan shook his head, pleased he made a sale, but pissed as hell at the price, he turned back to the table and picked up the cash counting it quietly to himself.

"20, 50, 80, 90, 110... That slimy insect son of a bitch!" he said as he slammed the money on the table.

He turned to the door as he gritted his teeth, but after a few moments he could only smile and think of how stupid he was believing Flinch would pay full price.


	4. En Route

Chapter 3: En Route…

A'ka'an-dra was having second thoughts about his current mission… But it wasn't the risk or the almost definite chance of something turning horribly wrong that was bothering him, it was the travel time…

In relativity to the Edridion System, an outer lying star structure, Yau'te Prime, the political centre of the Yautja populated planets was quite a distance to travel. Yau'te Prime was quite central to the more heavily occupied Yautja star systems, and because of his unique employment situation with the Leading Council of Yautja, A'ka'an spent a great deal of time travelling. Mainly short spells between more localized star systems, sometimes the travel time was so, that the young operative would leave for his destination as night closed, sleep for most of the transit, and wake to spend only a short time travelling.

Because of the lifestyle he had chosen, having called back his Pact to the Dark Blade Clan, A'ka'an didn't actually have a permanent residence, which suited him well. Though it lacked the space of an actual established dwelling, his shuttle was not without its advantages. The fruit of his first assignment from the Yau'te Council, the vessel had actually been a requisition from a former operative who had been selling information far beyond his pay grade. Fortunately for A'ka'an, once in custody, that operative 'no longer had need of transport' or so was the _official_ statement from the Yau'te Council Elders. Although it was slightly older, it was nothing to be scoffed at; the shuttle had all the comforts one could hope for as well as being armed to the teeth. A great family friend had seen to that.

Heavily modified shield emitters and cloaking generation systems were only a part of the arrangement, the shuttles operating and navigation system had been completely overhauled and upgraded to manage the peripheral systems more efficiently.

It was on longer flights such as the haul to Edridion Prime that A'ka'an would utilize the more subtle upgrades, such as studying through a very comprehensive repository of knowledge, kept updated in real time. Anything one could hope to know was documented, and not a single detail had been spared, from real time galactic mapping to the more common types of soil found on the popular forest resort moon, X'yl'te.

Another popular option for killing time was the Kehrite, though there was only so much that could be learnt from dueling with holographic opponents. It was still a very welcomed addition to the list of attractive features on offer, as there was no better way to keep in shape or hone reaction skills.

There was very little to do in terms of upkeep, most of the shuttle was kept spotless, even A'ka'an's weaponry and armor was kept in impeccable condition, sometimes he would even deliberately leave his equipment soiled, so he would have something to do later on. Such a thing was almost contradictory to the way he had been brought up, strict guidelines had been in place from a very young age, to respect and appreciate the equipment he used, whether it belonged to him or not.

* * *

The Yautja operative had been travelling for the best part of four days. Everything he could think of was in place, including a whole series of falsified data transmissions and clearance directives. These were crucial to the way A'ka'an-dra operated, like his father, he was not one to shy away from a challenge, but on the other hand, he had inherited his mothers razor sharp intellect. Often it was quicker and easier to bluff ones way into the required situation to achieve mission success. If required, he could become just about anyone with the right clearances, it was, after all, Edridion Prime, the chance of an intellectual challenge was quite slim. A'ka'an was more than well rested, and had been running on Edridion time for the last three days when the navigation system sounded its warning as the stealth vessel streaked through the outer borders, and into Edridion territory. It would be just under an hour before he breeched the atmosphere of Edridion Prime.

The Ku-rel had dispatched a full security team, thirty strong, as well as a contingent of their most elite to oversee the whole operation. With the council Elder, Gu'n-ka, who they had been charged to protect, his handful of personal minions and a small crew, the luxury midrange transport they had departed in wouldn't even be close to its maximum potential. It made A'ka'an think about this whole operation, no doubt there was details that were being kept from him, that much he was certain about when accepting half of the fee to take the assignment. But when the Ku-rel hadn't even bothered to ask him to travel with them or even in _tangent_ with them, it made him start to really question their agenda.

He knew that in light of Edridion Prime having been chosen for whatever they had planned, there were probably no limits for what goals they hoped to achieve. The most unfortunate factor was that they involved _him_, if they were going to set A'ka'an up to take the fall for something, then they had chosen the right place _and_ event to do it, the Power Sled Grand Finals. The Final round of the deadly racing series had been hosted on Edridion Prime for centuries, and drew in massive crowds, both local and interstellar. During such an event, there was only one place A'ka'an would feel comfortable setting up to observe, a position high above, where he could see the goings on of all below. Being familiar with ones surroundings was something that was drilled into _all _operatives, not just the Dark Blade variety. Either way, when being draw into an operation such as the one the Ku-rel had recruited him for, there was limited time in which he had to prepare. All A'ka'an could do was go over what details he knew of the operation, the surroundings, which he was quite familiar with, and prepare for the shit to hit the fan.

When meeting any intelligence contact in the field, or staging a security operation such as the one they had planned, the most important aspect of the operation was getting there before anyone else and establishing your perimeter. Scouts needed to be sent wide to sweep outer lying areas, enforcers were required to keep a direct path to the target clear at all times, and spotters were sent to establish key observation points. In the Covert trade, this sort of work was referred to as 'coverage' and was crucial, especially in an area that was more common to one's enemy. Another unfortunate shortcoming of _this_ operation, was the sudden urge for the Ku-rel to involve a third party in their security detail. Although it wasn't completely unheard of, it was not a wise move, especially if there had already been threats against the life of one they were to protect. Even if this _wasn't _some sort of attempt to incriminate A'ka'an-dra, it wasn't an operation that would go smoothly, especially if the Xa'antu had made an open threat on the life of an Elder.

A'ka'an mused at his thoughts, staring idly through the main viewing panel from the command chair of the powerful shuttles flight deck. He would beat the Ku-rel vessel to Edridion Prime by at least half a day, if they had been honest about their departure times. This would give him time to establish his own perimeter. Not to mention, snoop around the massive grandstands that had been built either side of the race track, right over the start / finish line. They had a tendency to change over time, and it had been a few years since his last visit to Edridion Prime.

As his vessel approached the atmosphere, a wideband communication packet was received from the network of Edridion satellites that were positioned throughout the star system. A'ka'an-dra had seen the same thing numerous times before, and quickly discarded it from the flight consoles main projection hub; there was nothing in that information that he didn't already know.

As the gravity of the large planet began to take hold of the shuttle, A'ka'an activated the manual controls and pitched the nose of the vessel into a sharp dive. He laughed with glee as he streaked toward the ground, several warning messages flashed up on the main projection display. A planet like Edridion Prime was more or less without flight restrictions unless the airspace was over a populated area, good thing A'ka'an was a long way off the central settlement. Still rocketing toward the planet surface, he bumped the main drives up to one hundred percent in reverse thrust, nearly stalling out as he washed off excess delta velocity. With boyish grin he pulled the nose of the powerful shuttle up just shy of the ground and engaged forward thrust, skimming along, mere meters above the dry surface, kicking up a massive plume of dust in his wake.

A mere five minutes later, the modified Yautja shuttle began to regain altitude, enough to clear the Great Western Ranges, a boundary of territories of the large dusty planet. As A'ka'an climbed to a safe altitude and the massive Central Settlement came into view, the navigation systems reconfigured from interstellar to local travel mode. A very detailed map of the greater settlement flickered into life, resting on the projection hub of the navigation console. There were many destination markers plotted on the map from previous missions and general information. In many cases, a long range vessel such as A'ka'an-dra's would serve as an operations hub to suit his need. Where available, data, navigation maps and even access to the long range subspace communication grid would be routed to his wrist device over great distances.

Wasting no more time, A'ka'an made straight for the huge Power Sled grandstands at the south end of the city, near the large interstellar docking stations that transports would use to unload cargo. The actual racing circuit was nothing more than a digitally plotted course that started south, running through a massive scrap graveyard. The gargantuan chassis' of ancient transport vessels and hundreds of others in similarity lay half buried in the dusty ground, everything of value being stripped decades before. After the Scrapland began a wide open stretch, the high speed run, sleds would open up with everything they had on this stage, what would seem the simplest leg was the most accident prone. Bookmakers from all over would come just to take bets on who was going to perish when they lost control and fragmented their sled at high speed. Slowly veering to the west, the end of the high speed run would quickly break away into a great number of smaller routes, all heading into the heart of the western ranges.

It didn't matter what species you were, the Western Range leg was all about balls, but reaction time was also a good trait to possess. Tight hook turns, narrow ledges, low over hanging rock outcrops and all the carnage in between, this was easily the most difficult stage. Those who made it through the third leg of the race would emerge from the northern most end of the Western Ranges. From here there was a short flat stretch of dusty, scorched earth, hardly worth mentioning before navigation readouts would lead pilots plummeting into Settlers Canyon, a massive scar in the surface of the planet. The head of the huge ravine started quite a way from the northern districts of the central settlement and continued at a south easterly bearing for hundreds of miles. Several different entrances had been cut into the land at several locations, to access the Canyon, as it was still quite populated. A more popular way of egress was nearer to the southern, more industrialized districts, this was a thoroughfare known as the Washout, and this was the last hurdle sled pilots had to overcome before a final sprint to the start /finish line, right between the massive grandstands.

The smaller, control classes of sled racing only did one lap, as it was quite hard going for the smaller powered units. But the main attraction, the Unlimited Class, did three laps of the extensive circuit, totaling over four hundred galactic standard miles. The massive power outputs of these suicide machines made for great entertainment, though at times it was hard for the naked eye to follow them. This was usually taken care of, especially in the more remote sections of the by specially designed flying drones, as well as every sled competing having a camera installed prior to every race.

The air traffic wasn't too bad this time of day, as it was around midday, the busier times were in the morning when market suppliers were making deliveries. A'ka'an-dra was able to touch down quite close to the grandstands, in a vast section of land that had been marked out as landing pads. Some of the race teams from far away star systems had already arrived and as usual, had taken most of the pads directly local to the venue, though the Yautja operative wasn't too fussed either way.

Powering down his vessel, A'ka'an raised from the command module and stretched, happy to finally be at his destination. During travel and down time, most active Yautja spent their time out of armor and in not much at all, in the case of A'ka'an-dra, it was either a plain loin covering or a short legged training garment. At the present moment he donned nothing more than a plain loin cloth and his wrist device, a tech item that was rarely removed from his body.

Jogging from the flight deck and down the corridor toward the rear of the shuttle, A'ka'an made for his armory, for lack of a better expression, this small, though very well equipped chamber was his own personal shrine, a place where he worshipped his trade. The nomad operative wasted little time, pulling the loin cloth from his body, he retrieved a rolled up bundle of tech-net and unfurled it before stepping into and pulling the net over his body. Much of his armor was modular, similar to the kind a fully fledged Dark Blade operative would be awarded with upon completion of their final trials. This modular armor had come into mainstream use a few hundred years before, but had very limited production runs, as its remarkable versatility was matched only by its price.

The designer, a very well known affiliate of the Dark Blade Clan, had the market cornered in terms of production as well as upkeep. Because several of the key materials were actually synthesized using very particular techniques, it was impossible to produce a replica that would function in the same manner. The tech-net was one of the major items that consisted more or less entirely of a synthesized material. With the new technology that was implemented into the armor, the tech-net became one of the most important components, the keystone behind what was referred to as the 'Embrace Network'.

With semi-pliable armor shards being lighter, stronger, and more flexible, the embrace network is what the paired wrist device's operating system employed to manipulate many factors of the entire armor system. From monitoring physiological conditions and maintaining body temperature in greatly varying environments through to adaptive, moisture resistant stealth capabilities and controlling the impulses that could render a short time of increased damage resistance. Obviously this vastly superior protective wear was unique in many ways, such an example was swapping out heavier outer layered armor for lighter duty components, this was a combination that A'ka'an-dra preferred much of the time.

Quickly coupling the utility belt and power cell around his waist, then the lightweight armor to his extremities, A'ka'an pulled the shoulder armature over his head and finished by binding the modular helmet over his head. The embrace network initialized instantly and began automatically calibrating the inner layers of the armor panels to adhere to the wearer's body. Because of the way the armor was designed to function, to utilize its full potential, it was necessary to always have the paired mask and wrist device, as the primary operating system, and other peripheral structuring encompassed _all _components.

A'ka'an gave a satisfied smirk under his mask as the wide angle visual receptors came online, with an automatic focus feature that was able to sharpen a wearers vision at even upwards of thirty times normal magnification, the masks were possibly the most complicated component. The heads up display flickered into life next, showing pertinent diagnostics of the armors initialization, it continued to run in a small display in the edge of A'ka'an's peripheral vision as he turned to his right, toward a wall laden with weapons. Like the armor, these weapons all shared a very similar appearance, a ghostly dark grey color with subtle characteristic texturing, almost identical to the outer surface of the armor shards. This coating was not just an aesthetic design, the adaptive stealth systems were able to leech to whatever weapons were in physical contact with the user at the time.

Admiring his well used tools of the trade for a moment, A'ka'an thought it best for the moment if he did his coverage work as a neutral party, this meant no obvious weapons. Selecting a short cylindrical staff he held it for a moment while his operating system acknowledged it, both by visual and tactile input. Very simple in appearance, the staff, approximately two feet long had only two engraved markings near its middle, A'ka'an brushed his thumb over one of them and the weapon rapidly extended, tripling in length. A later generation weapon, the powerstaff was a more elegant style of weapon, more about control and timing than sharp edges and brute strength, but equally as deadly in the right hands.

Disarming the weapon and coupling it to the correct receptacle on his spinal armor panel, A'ka'an walked briskly out of the armory, the door closing and sealing autonomously behind him. Making his way back toward the front of the shuttle, the nomad operative turned to his left at the base of the ramp that led to the flight deck and without breaking stride opened the side entrance to his shuttle. Bright midday sunlight flooded through the opening, the warm, fresh air that accompanied it was greatly appreciated, especially after the few days of breathing recycled atmosphere. Though his body was exceptionally conditioned, and he didn't need it to breathe this air, A'ka'an kept his mask on for indemnity purposes, also the fact that the modular armor would not function to its full capacity without the paired helmet.

Without even waiting to the entrance ramp to extend fully, A'ka'an started walking down it, he purred happily as the warm sunlight hit his body. His abdominal core, lower back, thighs and arms were exposed due to the light duty armor shards only covering the more fatal areas of his body. Chest, upper back and shoulders were well protected, as was the groin area and upper thigh, from the knee down; the armor was a two piece boot, shared with the heavier protective coverings. Though parts of his body were exposed, by way of tech-net, the embrace network encompassed his entire body, and as long as his mask was connected, a short period of projectile repulsion was achievable, at the expense of stored energy. The power source for the modular armor had been completely re-engineered to cope with the greatly increased energy demand.

With smaller, more potent power cells and collaborative energy regulation hardware built into the utility belt, furthermore, working in synchronous with the tech-net, this hardware provided A'ka'an with greatly increased energy weapon discharge resistance. Though he was still susceptible to the actual inertial effects of energy based projectiles, the tech-net was able to absorb much of the heat and ion catalyst energy, feeding it back into the cells.

Even though he had a fair understanding of how the technology worked, A'ka'an-dra thought it was much easier _not _to be in the line of fire in the first place. In some cases this was easier said than done, but that didn't stop him from trying.

* * *

"Whoa, whoa… Hold up! There is no public access to the grounds yet!"

A'ka'an looked to his right as he walked peacefully through the main gates, a solitary guard sat at the security station, trying to look as calm as he could. Though they pretty much kept to themselves, until it was time to lay down the law, the Edridion's employed assured groups to keep certain aspects of their giant Petri dish running smoothly. Grounds keepers, maintenance workers, catering staff and when events called for it, a security contingent. The illusion of 'lawlessness' upon Edridion Prime was not entirely false, the Edridion species did let a lot of things slide, for an example, most trading that was considered illegal elsewhere wasn't an issue in the markets on Edridion Prime. But things like slave trading, adultery and what they called 'unlawful murder' would get you a one way ticket aboard an Edridion Beam Transport, and that was a ride no one came back from.

Stopping in his tracks, A'ka'an waited patiently for the guard to approach him, he could have easily have found a way in undetected, the grandstand complex was massive and the security wasn't very effective.

"Sorry, you are either going to have to show me some identification, or head back on out." The guard was a younger male from a humanoid race called the Zabrak.

"Understandable," nodded A'ka'an, a quick hand flicking open the outer panel of his wrist device, giving access to the more complicated features that lay beneath. After a moment a perfect replica of an Edridion Way of Passage document flickered into view from the small projection hub, accompanied by a matching Identification Insignia.

"Oh… I am sorry… Shadow, is it?" The guard quickly changed his tune upon inspection of the Identity Insignia, stating that A'ka'an had direct rank over any Edridion employee.

"That is correct." Nodded A'ka'an, smiling politely, even though his expression was hidden by his mask, he always stayed in character. "How have things been here?" he continued, casually shutting off the projection and closing his wrist device.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, we had some supplies stolen from the executive catering kitchen last night, but they were caught before they could get too far."

"Well, I am surprised!" A'ka'an stated with a lighthearted tone, "It seems the 'Overlords' have picked a semi-decent security force this year."

"Says the one with the name: 'Shadow'… Who came up with that?" laughed the guard

"You do not want to know my history, Zabrak. That is information that others will kill for…"

"Maybe you're right; I've never seen a Yautja like you before…"

"I try to make a habit of not being seen very often." A'ka'an replied with a nod as he continued on his way.

"Wait, Shadow… I can't see a weapon on you, we have spare pistols in the main security station if you require… I can check in and tell them you are coming."

"That will not be necessary, thank you all the same."

* * *

Without further interruption, A'ka'an wandered through much of the vast, multifaceted grandstands and surrounding buildings, ever so observant. The lack of crowds made things seem a little out of place, as during race events, the facility would be packed with beings from far and wide. Though things seemed out of place at the present, A'ka'an was ever so grateful that he could analyze and absorb without interruption.

Much of the lower grounds were pointless to even think about, as there were so many entrances and exits out of buildings and retail stalls that anyone could hide without too much trouble. The only thing that might be cause for a watchful eye was the subterranean entrance to the pit area where only race teams were permitted, if need be, A'ka'an could position a roaming stealth drone around that location. It took slightly over an hour to wander through the lower levels, making his way upward, to the overhanging executive suites atop the grandstands. There were several overpasses connecting the two massive arenas, one opposite the other, the wide racetrack separating them.

In reality, the executive suites would be some of the safer places, as most who could afford to observe from such a position, usually had a trusted security team in place. There were only a few entrances to and from the executive levels, and from the right position, everyone would be quite visible. Satisfied from his existing position, A'ka'an made his way to the rear of the western stand, as he knew the Ku-rel Elder, Gu'n-ka, would be sitting in the eastern stand. Exiting the superior class level, A'ka'an made for one of the service ways, he followed the passage along for nearly the length of the entire stand before coming to a short stairwell that led to the roof structure.

Opening the door, the Yautja male was met, for the second time in the course of two hours by the bright midday sun, and a slightly elevated warm breeze. The visual filters on his mask tinted automatically at the increase in ambient light as he stepped out onto the roof structure. The level itself was huge, spanning the entire area of the grandstand; large steel cables ran from the front edge of the roof, back to outrigger columns that stood around four meters off the rear edge. This way, there was no need for frontal support on the roof structure, giving a clear view for everyone. The series of thick cables routed from the outrigger columns down to the main anchor posts, these heavy posts stood six meters tall, and were positioned approximately every twenty meters, following the entire length of the stadium. There were twenty cables in total, several of the ones closest to the entrance and a few others in between had been used to mount large shade sails, providing shelter to the retail stands on ground level.

A'ka'an liked the idea of being high up, he could see perfectly into the executive suites in the opposite grandstand. Walking toward the front edge, he saw where the main horizontal support beams for the roof protruded from the structure well over a meter before the cable was fixed right at the very end with several bolts, almost as thick as A'ka'an's wrist. Without hesitation he walked right out to the end of the steel beam, it was just wide enough for the bolted cable anchor to rest between his feet. The fact that he was some eight levels above ground level, plus the additional ten meter drop to the race track didn't seem to bother A'ka'an one bit as he leaned out to get a better look. From his current position, he could see everything he needed, both from his side of the track and to the other. The nomad operative nodded to himself and stepped back onto the roof surface.

"This will do nicely; there is no better place to wait for an assassination." He spoke quietly to himself with a smile.

Turning on his heel, he walked to the rear edge of the roof and looked down at the shade sails below; he quickly counted the cables, stopping at the first closest to his position that had nothing attached to it.

"Eleven…" he mumbled as he walked along to the eleventh outrigger post and looked up at the heavy cable

Once again, height not bothering him in the slightest, A'ka'an sprang on his powerful legs, covering the remaining two meters between himself and the cable with ease. Grappling onto the support lead just after it passed over the outrigger post, he hung suspended over the edge of the building for a moment. Moving hand over hand back to the roof side of the cable support, he let himself drop back onto his feet.

"Well, Eleven, I hope I will not be seeing you tomorrow, though there is a good chance, I will. And I will bring rope."

A'ka'an chuckled at his words and made for the roof entrance, it was now time to go and wait for the Ku-rel to arrive, but first, he would eat. There was a small eatery in the Edridion Markets that served some of the best food this side of Yau'te Prime. He had plenty of time to go and catch a platform transport and drift into the Market place.


	5. Race Day

Chapter 4: Race Day

Quickly exiting the grounds of the abandoned 'office building', via the same hole in the fence, _before_ Raketan could sick his doorman onto him, Flinch dashed across the street and into the alleyways of the Market District. Most of the central districts lead to a hectic lifestyle, seeing as the central market wasn't open all day, most of the regular retailers also owned permanent shop fronts in the surrounding suburbs. And due to that 'unique' way of life, the inner districts were bustling, twenty eight hours a day, four hundred and sixty days a year.

But today was special, the southern central areas, heading into the industrial districts were dead quiet, as it was the first of a few days most workers took around this time of year to enjoy… whatever they wanted. The Power Sled Series had grown into quite a popular event over a great many systems, but the final was always held at the birthplace of the insane sled racing league, Edridion Prime, a match made in heaven.

Keeping his senses sharp as swung the bag with his newly purchased 'toys' over his shoulder, Flinch swiftly stalked through the back alleys, heading north west, toward a little niche he had created for himself. It was a real dump of a joint, and he didn't care who knew it, because most would find it very hard to get in, even _if _they wanted to. It wasn't a long trek, the building was still part of the inner west, though it was located on the border of three surrounding suburbs, and had been vacant for god knows how long, or for what reason. This didn't worry Flinch in the slightest, as a matter of fact, he had been excited by such a find, there were a few other squatters that had been in there, but the sight of a rogue Hive Guardian had soon taken care of that little issue.

It wasn't really necessary for him to keep to the alleys, he could well have been walking out in the open, but trouble had a nasty habit of, not so much following Flinch around, but just knowing where he was most of the time. Coming to the last street intersection before his block, the rogue male quickly looked around before stepping out into the throng of bodies, making their way south toward the Stadium. Quickly dodging in and out of all the excited Sled fans, Flinch crossed the street, ducking back into another alleyway. He moved silently, about half way down the block, another small laneway intersected from the alley, providing rear access to a few of the retailers and also to Flinch's derelict building.

Approaching the back of the building, stepping over random piles of junk and rubbish, Flinch gently placed both his hands on the solid rendered structure, then rested his head on the wall, listening for any would be threats. He took a few moments before stepping back, repositioning the bag over his shoulder then pouncing up onto the wall. Without even a single sound he reached the top of the abandoned building and looked about before pulling himself up and over the ledge. Not a single building within a two mile radius stood taller than the derelict one Flinch called his own, given the vastness of Edridion Prime, there was no real need to build any higher than five or six stories. He grinned as he ambled over to a large set of planks, looking both ways; he kicked them aside to reveal a hole in the roof that led down into the floor below. Flinch crawled though quietly and pulled the planks over the whole before dropping down onto the floor.

The 'room' was more or less the entire top floor of the top floor of the derelict building, Flinch had pulled down all the sub walling that divided the floor space and stuffed the scrap down into the stair well. With this makeshift barricade in place it was near impossible to break into Flinches place without explosives, or the ability to wall walk. All the windows had been blocked off with sheets and curtains he had stolen from other houses or off the streets as the patterns were all different. In one corner of the room was a large bed that had both back legs broken and slanted to one end awkwardly, there was a rangy old blanket to go with it, and a pillow stuffed cloths.

On the other side of the room was a dodgy looking book shelf created from a collection of many varying lengths of timber that had all been haphazardly stacked together. The shelves were all stuffed with different weapons and items Flinch valued, money, food, bits of tech and other trinkets.

Feeling safe for the moment, he dropped the bag next to the bookshelf and emptied his weapons and ammo out, as he did this his vision flicked to a half empty bottle of whiskey he must have forgotten to finish. He leaned forward a little, grinning at the sight and swiped the bottle quickly from the shelf, pouring whatever was left down his throat. Taking a moment, he carefully laid his weapons into their new niches upon his shelves, rearranging other so they could fit. There was probably some sort of order they were in, but even Flinch didn't know what it was.

"Ok...I'm fuckin' ready...I'm fuckin', ready." he said as he nodded his head, reassuring himself

He pegged the empty bottle across the room as he rose to his feet, eyeballing the rickety shelving before him. His eyes scanned his ever increasing arsenal; he looked over most of the weaponry, before nodding to himself and grabbing at one of his favorite close combat arms, a compact sawn off shotgun. Sitting next to the double barreled boom stick was a large box, Flinch dived his other hand in and withdrew and a fistful of shells, loaded just the way he like, with shrapnel shards. Loading shells this way was something the Hive male was very proud of, purchasing a large crate of inexpensive flak grenade rounds, he would break them down, and harvest the lethal shards of high tensile steel. With just one grenade round, he could load six twelve gauge shells, at close range, these would tear through flesh with ease, and keep on going into whatever poor bastard was behind the target. The empty grenade shells made for a pretty decent stun grenade when packed with the right materials.

As the realization of the upcoming events finally set in, Flinch had to calm himself, his breathing heavy, he mumbled quietly as he slid the shotgun into a holster inside his long coat. The shells were deposited into an inside pocket next to the sawn off boom stick, the rogue guardian may have been a bit of a mess, but he usually took his weapons pretty seriously. Walking back over to his bed, Flinch stuck a hand under the mattress and withdrew a strange, ornate looking purple rock dangling on a simple leather necklace. He stared quietly at it for a moment before gently pressing it to his hard lips and kissing it softly before stowing it back under the mattress.

With a calming breath, Flinch ran his hands down the side of his large dome and walked back over to the bookshelf, he ran an eye over his gear, he needed to stay light and compact for the moment, but still felt a little outgunned. Reaching to the top shelf, he pulled down an old pressed steel cantilever toolbox and opened it, revealing half a dozen RGD5 plasma grenades. The hive male pulled out three and stowed them in the loops that had stitched inside his coat for that very purpose. He had empty pistol holster on the opposite side to his sawn off, and decided to fill it with a cut down .338 revolver, the adjoining pocket copped a handful of hard jacket rounds. Too many assholes were wearing armor these days…

Feeling like he actually had a chance now, Flinch pounced back up onto the roof and pushed his way out of the hole, pulling the planks back, quickly concealing the hole again. Quietly reinforcing himself, the rogue Guardian made for the Grandstand. Though that didn't change the fact that there was still a pretty good chance that something or someone would cheat and change the outcome dramatically. And if that happened, he needed to be prepared for the Entak Crew, who will no doubt come after him with everything they had.

* * *

"… _Attention, all open wagers at the Gaming Stand are now set, the race will be starting in ten minutes…" _

It was hard to see past the large crowds of people marching in through the entrance gates, one could describe it a lot like quick sand, once you get caught in it, there was no going back. The ash from the lighting of Jooba cigarettes, the hot grilled food being cooked by the locals to earn some extra cash, and just the sheer pollution of the event was beginning to cause restlessness in the crowds. There was little security down in the lower stands, or the _'mixed nuts'_ as the rich and powerful liked to call the bottom in-bad-shape sections of the sled stands.

The noise and sheer number of creatures pouring in was rather unsettling to Flinch, he was never one to enjoy being mushed together with loud talking scumbags and gamblers from the far reaches of space. Simply put, his kind had always been the quiet and analytical type, that trait was paying off now as Flinch observed the surroundings, watching the different types species push and shove, bad mouth and taunt, and all in build up their aggressive ideas for who would be the winner in this violent sport.

Flinch was no stranger to violence, cruelty, and greed, but not even he, the apparent, ultimate creature of the night, and the nightmare of man, could create something as evil, and heartless as gambling. He had standards, but his Xenomorph instincts told him that the only way to survive in this land was to feed off of it like all the scavengers and vultures that venture to it.

* * *

The hive male was leaning against a food kiosk, well out of the way of the large crowds coming forth from the main entrances. His arms folded, semi –relaxed over his chest, his tail softy flicking about of its own accord. Flinch was in a state of almost constant alert, tasting the air, smelling the scents, and knowing his situation inside out, for as far as he was concerned, the Entak Crew would be watching his every move. Causing a scene was the last thing Flinch wanted to do, if they didn't already have a tracker on him, they would soon.

The rogue male was at least trying to look like he was keeping his guard up when suddenly a mesmerizing scent crept over his taste buds, meat, cooked meat. He turned his head and the rest of his body followed, looking toward a grilled food stand a good six meters to the left of him. The owner had just fired up his grill and using a large machete was carving and turning fresh meat as it sizzled, quickly sealing, then hissing and crackling to a tasty dark brown color. The cook was a tubby Gotal, a tall, hairy, humanoid creature known for the distinctive two horns that protruded from the top of their heads, their flat noses and face, and full body fur. They were also known to have a rather aggressive temperament.

While this Gotal didn't look like much, their natural tracking abilities were not to be underestimated, many legends had been written on their powerful ability to scent track. Not even a well seasoned Yautja with the most advanced technology could beat a Gotal at their own game, which was a well known fact.

Flinch continued to watch the meat as the oil from the grill sizzled on top of the browning pieces of flesh. The cook, with a sinister look on his face waddled over to the serving bench and grabbed a tin can full or orange sauce, and like a true craftsmen, he gave designated amounts of sauce for each piece of meat.

Flinch, like a starving dog could only watch, as well as smell this alluring food of smell draw him in, he was now one hundred percent focused on this cook, and his masterpiece, drool began to seep from his twitching lips, whatever the meat was, Flinch was sure it could beat tined worms and noodles, the shit he had been living off.

With no further thought to his current predicament regarding the likely chances of death at the end of the day, a plan of attack began to form in his head. For all Flinch knew, this old, chubby Gotal would be like taking candy from a baby. Timing was the key to get such a snatch and grab right, the thought of this brought an ominous grin to Hive Guardians face, slowly, and carefully he mingled along, rummaging through the crowd to keep the Gotal's senses distracted.

The plan seemed to be going well until Flinch's covert effort was interrupted by a small scaly, humanoid looking child; female, wearing damp crummy cloths, with a long mouse like tail. It was the first time Flinch had seen such a creature, and almost instantly he began to feel better about himself, sure, he might die, but at least he didn't look _that_ bad. The child tried her luck with a pathetic smile on her face in the hopes of recovering cash, or food from Flinch. Or perhaps she just wanted her days of starving to end, as pestering a hungry Xenomorph was usually seen as a suicidal move, for most species at least.

She gently tugged on the Hive Guardians long brown coat as a sign for him to lower his height to her level, her tail flicking just like his, strangely enough she still had sense and image of confidence most species in these parts can't afford to wear, especially homeless ones. Flinch tilted his drooling head as a mischievous grin came to his face, he walked over to a small siding, behind a nearby kiosk, the child in tow, still holding onto his coat. When they were as out of sight they could get, he pulled a small piece of hard currency from his pocket and held it out to the child, whose eyes watched the suns reflection of the coin with great focus.

As her small, dirty hands went to reach the coin Flinch teasingly pulled back and pointed to the Gotal's grill, giving her an indication of how she could obtain he currency. After a brief moment of silence between the two, as the crowds level of volume increased, Flinch gestured again to the coin, as the child made her choice to help the hive Guardian. And like that, a business deal had been agreed upon with the two, in a means of surviving the harsh conditions of Edridion Prime. Flinch kept at casually looking around the junk left around the abandoned food kiosks before he built up the confidence to easily strut over to the chubby Gotal who was breathing as loud as the grill sizzled.

"Fifteen credits, Insect." He croaked as he grabbed a dirty cloth and began to clean the grease from the pads of his large, hairy hands, "For that you get a decent ol' chunk of the finest meat this system can offer." He sneered, followed by a low crackling chuckle.

Flinch simply smiled and pulled both hands from his pockets and placed them on the top of the Gotal's serving bench, mere centimeters from where he would keep his days takings.

"I'd say I've had better mate, the smell is like a leaking sewer pipe, dripping onto a fried turd." Flinch smirked, rather proud of his pathetic insult.

"A Xeno having too many meals in one day? Now I have heard everything." the Gotal said with a strong tone on his voice, firmly stating his position with the hungry Hive Guardian using his sheer weight.

Flinch loosed a hiss of annoyance to the chunky Gotal, lowering his grin just slightly.

"I'm still in the shop for my second meal friend, and my senses are keen on two kinds of meat located in this slap-dashed, shit stand." Flinch slowly leaned forward and gently tapped his claws on the bench, very close to where the Gotal kept his money stash. "Your orca fat hind, or that not to bad looking meat… It's not really a hard choice for me, but I could go either way…"

The Gotal's aggressive nature could no longer be restrained, moving with surprising speed for a tall creature, and as fat as he was; his large hands sprang forward at the vulnerable Flinch. One hand grabbed his hold of his coat, the other came as a fist to his hard, cold chin, with no amount of force spared, the blow sent Flinch flailing backward, nearly sending him off his feet.

"WOW! GOOD MORNING! Now we're talkin…!" Flinch laughed as he shook off the blow like he was ready for the first round in a boxing match, jumping about and loosening himself up in an excited frenzy. His face hurt like hell, but there was no way he was going to show it.

Unfortunately his ambitions of revenge soon subsided as a group of six, young, fit and very able looking Gotal's just happened to be in the right place at the right time. They merged out of the moving crowed and closed in around the trouble maker, observing the hive guardians futile tough talk and appearance. Flinch suddenly dropped his tough guy grin as he swiftly turned to see the numbers against, he hissed threateningly at the younger Gotal's in an effort to push them off, this did little, he knew it, and they knew it.

The chunky Gotal was now laughing quite loud, slapping his hand on the counter top as more than a few sets of eyes observed from the crowds as they walked past this budding situation. Most just chose to ignore it for the safety of their own lives, the fat cook slowly raised his handle shaking his finger at Flinch, as his head shook too, enjoying watching Flinch's courage melt off him like warm butter.

"Oh how it's amusing to watch a bug realize its significance is that of a bug." he chunky Gotal said, continuing his taunting laugh between his sentences.

"It's not only a title reserved for the insects chum…" Flinch said, trying to remain calm as he kept moving his head back and forth between all the younger males, ready to grab for his guns and the first sign of trouble.

"As much as I would love to watch these boys squash your head along this gutter, business is business, now why don't you take your lust for attention away from me and my liabilities." the pudgy Gotal said as he gestured to his friends watching Flinch with their taunting eyes.

Flinch gave a jerky nod to the cook, paying only as much respect as required to keeping him alive for the moment as he shoved both hands into his pockets, grasping his hidden weapons like metal stress balls as he nodded and walked through the gang of Gotal's and moved into the crowed walking with the current of flowing people.

"Unbelievable, fuckin' bugs these days." laughed the lard-arsed Gotal as he turned back to his loaded grill, only to see one of the larger slabs of flesh had been ganked right from under his flat, smashed in nose. He hastily looked around for the culprit, trying to focus his senses onto Flinch who had already long since disappeared into the oncoming traffic of natives.

The rogue Xenomorph was now laughing to himself as he mirthfully slapped his thigh and looked back in the direction of the Gotal he had just duped. His chin still hurt, but the thought of the hot meal that waited for him lifted his spirits, he spotted his little operative in the same place, behind the kiosk, holding the meat as far away from her as possible. Clearly her species had no taste for meat; it's not surprising they were starving.

Flinch walked over to the child and quickly got down to her level as he pulled out, not the agreed upon single coin, but three. He gently extended his large, dark hand, placing her hard earned currency in her small outstretched hand, she was a little taken by this gesture, a Xenomorphs touch is by no means a pleasant one, and especially for a small child who would have no doubt learnt about their brutality; she _must_ have been desperate. Flinch carefully took the meat from her other hand as she stood frozen, visualizing the coldness of his hand as it moved a away from hers and back into his pocket.

"Work hard, play hard kid…" Flinch said with a proud grin as he pulled a small chunk off the meat and handed it to his partner in crime.

The small child just looked at the meat with a shocked look on her face, clearly this was not her idea of an eatable meal, she looked back at Flinch who was just starting to catch on to her clear dismissal for the food, he sighed in annoyance as her pathetic state was more convincing than any gun point ideal.

"Fuck… Fine, take these instead; I already got enough creatures on my ass." He said as he reached into his jacket and dug out a bag of crackers freshly sealed for safe keeping, designed to last for months in the wilderness, not much taste, but kept you alive regardless.

He handed her the fresh sealed bag of crackers as he took the piece of meat from her and chomped it down in a few seconds. Before she could even thank him, Flinch rose from his kneel, softly shook her hand and gave her a smile, minus the teeth to show his appreciation before disappearing back into the crowds, following the flow into the stands. Some of the lighter classes had already started racing, but these were mere undercards, the main sled race wouldn't be starting for a little while yet.

The girl simply watched this strange creature of the dark disappear from her sights, munching on the crackers he gave her, now only really thinking about how she will survive the rest of the day.

* * *

"Where is this _additional security_ you spoke of Da'xsh-el…? I prefer not to miss any of the day's entertainment."

"Ba'nu-ka was overseeing the payment to the contractor. He gave the time and place to meet, Elder Gu'n-ka. He is late."

"…I am never late. That would be unprofessional."

A fifteen strong Yautja security contingent, all turned, startled to see a hooded stranger emerge from behind the aft landing structure of their large Man'daca hunting craft, where the Ku-rel guards had all assembled in formation. There was a stunned silence as the newcomer cut a path right through the force of guards, to the front of the group where two elites, the Rylt'ah, or Chief of Guards, and the days target, Gu'n-ka impatiently stood.

"Should I be offended at how you can be so quick to disparage me, Da'xsh-el?" A'ka'an asked quietly as he removed the long hooded cloak that hung around his shoulders. He let it hang in his fingers for a moment before discarding it to the dusty ground.

The silence was punctuated by a gentle flutter of the cheap travelling cloak getting caught in a shallow gust of wind. A'ka'an-dra stood proud before his 'employers', light duty armor spotlessly clean, though signs of regular use were very apparent, unlike the previous day, he was now armed. Long reach wrist blades, retracted, lying in waiting, semi concealed inside the sleek gauntlet of his right forearm. A modified standard issue Dark Blade pistol fixed to the mount on the left hip of his utility belt. The anchor on the left of his shoulder chassis was home to the dock of a remote surveillance drone. To top it all off, coupled to one of the primary receptacles on his spine armor was a perfect example of arguably the most powerful ranged weapon a Yautja sniper could desire, the Dreadnaught Speargun.

"The 'Shadow'… Your reputation precedes you." Replied the Guard Chief

"You have not answered my question." A'ka'an stated simply, ignoring the numerous pairs of eyes he could feel staring daggers into his back. No doubt if there was a conspiracy of some kind, _they_ would not have knowledge of it.

"No, you should not be offended." He lied, though they had been smart enough to meet out in the open where the gentle dusty breeze make it hard to scent them accurately, A'ka'an could still taste deceit.

"Of course he should not." Chuckled Gu'n-ka, brushing past the Rylt'ah male his forearm extended to greet the somewhat fabled 'Shadow'

"I will take your word for it, Elder Gu'n-ka." A'ka'an replied with a polite nod, the Elder's scent was genuine, the poor bastard had no idea…

"It is certainly intriguing to meet such a spoken of Yautja in person, though I am still slightly confused as to why my own troops could not handle such a simple task." He looked back to the Rylt'ah, Da'xsh-el, his tone was not hostile, perhaps a little confused if anything.

"I am merely here to lend a hand at the request of your clan's council. Clearly they think you are important enough to protect. The payment would certainly imply that."

"Any skepticism of details can be put to rest at the day's end, let us make way to the stands." Gu'n-ka replied, clearly fobbing off A'ka'an's statement.

With a swish of his flashy cloak and the clink of heavy armor that was almost over adorned, Gu'n-ka turned and led his party toward the huge grandstands. A'ka'an followed behind the elites, watching their body movements and those of the Guard Chief, Da'xsh-el. They held themselves well, no doubt they had training above and beyond what Gu'n-ka actually knew about, if there was an attempt on his life, A'ka'an was ready to bet everything that they would be involved in it.

As they neared the stands, A'ka'an-dra increased his pace and moved to the right side of Da'xsh-el.

"What frequency should I be synchronized to…?"

Da'xsh-el almost reluctantly held out his wrist device and activated a communication share function, allowing A'ka'an's wrist unit to instantly lock onto the signal. From inside his mask, the operative smiled consciously as his heads up display fed him information embedded into the frequency.

"Is it worth my asking as to why you are not using a standard fleet frequency?"

"Is it worth me telling you?" Da'xsh-el was trying to play a joke off the tense situation that A'ka'an was more than adept at creating. He may have had training above and beyond his employment requirement, but he had nothing of the natural ability that was bred into A'ka'an-dra.

"Why do I not do us both a favor, and put one in the back of his head…" A'ka'an quietly responded, with a jerky nod toward Gu'n-ka. As the Yautja specialist hoped, it tripped the Rylt'ah mentally who gave a weak laugh.

"I would not advise that, there are fifteen guards behind us that might see that as a sign of hostility… I did not want to risk anything; that is why we are using a concealed frequency."

A'ka'an didn't even bother listening to the last sentence, the Rylt'ah had not included himself, or the elites amongst the individuals that might have a problem with the freelance operative killing Gu'n-ka. That was all the information he required.


	6. Suspicions Confirmed

Chapter 5: Suspicions Confirmed…

"…_AND THAT IS POSSIBLY THE BEST OVERTAKE YOU WILL SEE TODAY! THAT LITTLE H'JU STINGER SLED WAS ABSOLUTELY SCREAMING AROUND THE BEND, AND SAILED CLEAN OVER THE TOP OF MASSAK TU AND HIS TRANSFLOW POWERED UNIT. THAT WILL SLOT THE CHALLENGE CLASS FAVORITE, VAKEN SELKA, BACK INTO A COMFORTABLE LEAD…"_

The race callers were at their usual overzealous best, right from the beginning of the first race, the death toll was rising quickly, keeping them, and the crowd on their toes. A'ka'an just watched from his perch, high atop the stand opposite the corporate boxes where Gu'n-ka and his entourage sat. He kept an ear to the chatter coming though the frequency he had linked to for the mission, as to be expected there had been nothing out of the ordinary, yet. The main race for the unlimited class was not too far away, and the crowd was excitable like A'ka'an-dra had ever seen.

The Yautja specialist yawned under his mask, his vision quickly snapping to the small video image in the top right corner of his heads up display, a live feed from the stealth surveillance drone he had patrolling a grid near the subterranean entrances. These were the only way of egress from one side of the race stadium to the other, as well as access to the team areas and pit garages.

Turning on his heel, A'ka'an scouted behind him for what seemed like the hundredth time so far today. There was nothing directly behind his position that was high enough to be used as a sniping position, there were a few that would allow a shooter to come in at an extreme angle between the stands. But the perches were a great distance away, and a clean shot from that distance was near impossible.

'_Near impossible… though not impossible…' _the Yautja male thought to himself for a moment, then cursed the negative idea from his head.

He had inspected the possible sniper posts the previous evening, looking for signs of use and checking what the wind edge angle would have to be in comparison to the next day's weather forecast. He had found nothing.

"… _HERE THEY COME NOW! AAANNND IT IS SELKA! VAKEN SELKA TAKES FIRST PLACE IN THE CHALLENGE CLASS! MASSAK TU, HOT ON HIS TAIL! AND, THE HUMAN, JARREN FERRO IN THIRD!" _

The crowds roared louder than the sleds that had just streaked over the start / finish line, A'ka'an watched as Gu'n-ka got to his feet, applauding voraciously. The rogue operative's vision flicked back to his surveillance feed, then over Gu'n-ka's shoulder to see the two elite guards swap a barely noticeable nod. A'ka'an-dra narrowed his eyes under his mask, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to well in his gut.

"Fuck… I _knew_ this was going to happen… _'Go and throw yourself into a trap, you need some action…!'_ I said… _'It will be fun'_ I said…!"

A'ka'an knew this feeling well, it was like an addition to his already abnormal sensory perception, something passed onto him from his parents. Something bad was going to happen, and quite soon no doubt.

The Yautja male mumbled under his breath as he calmly reached around and uncoupled his deadly Speargun, it gave a light click as A'ka'an's armor embrace network encompassed the weapon, activating it. Without hesitation, the heads up display of his mask quickly faded into the offensive vision structure, pre programmed for the powerful Dreadnaught Speargun. The operating system instantly began to throw up data on wind shear, air born particulates and other environmental factors in a small window to the upper left of the display. For long range accuracy, it was pertinent to have these details, after memorizing the data for the present moment A'ka'an used his lower left mandible to discard the display. When the mask switched to different preset weapon modes, the action of the internal controls also changed in accordance to what the wearer specified.

The long, sleek weapon felt very familiar underhand, and as A'ka'an-dra raised the butt to his shoulder, a small aiming reticule blinked into view. It tracked around the center of his vision for a mere moment, settling on the predetermined position of the Speargun, as A'ka'an began to pan around, the reticule followed as one. He quickly increased the magnification and bore down on Gu'n-ka's position; one of the elites had already left. A'ka'an cursed under his breath and lowered the weapon, his visual enhancement automatically returning to normal.

His Blood Elders hadn't been too keen on him taking on such an assignment, and though they really had no say in his life now he had left the service of the Dark Blade Clan, that didn't mean he didn't respect their opinion. And _this _time, he should have listened. It wasn't so much the credits had that lured him; though, with that sort of funding, the Yautja male could do just about anything he wanted. It was more the challenge that had drawn him to the dusty planet, and had his life not been so dull of late, he might have almost regretted it. Almost…

As his mind played over some of the likely scenarios, A'ka'an spied something from the corner of his eye. He stepped out onto one of the protruding roof supports and walked right to the edge and looked into the crowds below. Quickly raising the Speargun to his shoulder once more, he modified one of his masks visual filters as he spoke quietly to himself.

"And who let _you_ out of the Hive...?"

It wasn't entirely uncommon to see Kainde Amedha roaming in outer rim systems, especially seeing as their species evolved so differently from one hive to another. He had seen a few 'solo travelers' in his time, drones or hive guardians completely independent from the Hive Mind.

A'ka'an-dra wasn't sure what to make of the xenomorph, it was armed, again a rarity for their kind as they weren't natural tool users, this one had clearly spent some time in the outside world. He held his sights on the Hive Guardians head for a moment longer, visually different from that of a drone by several small spikes and different forming of their natural armor. It wore a long, dusty trench coat, the color of desert sand and had a strange marking on the front of its head. As the coat moved slightly, A'ka'an was able to spy a quickly look inside, seeing the stock of an older generation, human weapon. These were still a popular option for the more economically challenged systems, as well as anywhere with any sort of human populace, though technologically inferior, they were still deadly in the right hands.

Could this be the first Kainde Amedha assassin…?

* * *

The crowds cheered and screamed louder than the Sleds as the first three place getters of the Challenge Class streaked over the start finish line. The punters closest to the track leaned over the edge of the stands, looking down into the artificial valley created by the two massive grandstands, flanking either side of the track.

"… Mother fu… Wait on…" Flinch talked to himself, and whoever else may have been listening as he dug into one of his pockets and withdrew a betting card from one of the vendors at The Bounty Board, a spur of the moment wager.

"MOTHER FUCKER!" Bellowed the hive guardian, throwing the betting card onto the ground. "Stupid, piss weak humans… Ruined my trifecta!" he looked to his right, a fellow gambler looked about as flat as Flinch felt. "Can you believe this shit?" spat the hive male

"Tell me about it…" mumbled the tall, pale blue skinned humanoid, their race were known as the U'lon, usually quite placid beings. "I just fucked fifteen grand on that, no one likes that wank, Selka, I had my cred on Massak Tu, and for a while there, I thought I was on a winner…"

"Fifteen large…? You poor bastard… Well, now, you really are! RIGHT!?" laughed Flinch, happily reminded that there were people more idiotic than even he.

The U'lon male scowled and pushed his way through the crowds mumbling under his breath, Flinch laughed to himself.

"What a soft cock, can't even take a joke… Argh… Stupid fuckin' thing…"

Flinch shuffled around inside his long coat for a moment before pulling out his .338 pistol from its sewn in holster.

"God I need to fix that bloody holster…!" the rogue guardian chuckled to himself, as he slipped it back inside his coat, this time to one of the inside pockets, looking around to make sure nobody was watching.

Even though his trifecta hadn't really gotten up, he was still very confident that the main race would be in his favor, and it showed as Flinch folded his arms, a rather satisfied grin on his face.

"… Unlimited Class up next. Be a good race eh…?" Flinch says to a local bystander, he simply avoids answering the question for obvious reasons.

Flinch was suddenly set alert as a strange feeling crept up on him, he looked around fidgeting nervously, he had an idea where the sensation had come from, though he didn't really want to prove himself right. Tilting his head upward, he drew a deep breath, quickly ducking his head down again as his suspicions proved correct.

"… That's going to be a big bloody turd in the punch bowl…" he mumbled to himself, looking around quickly, scouting the exits.

The hive guardian hissed angrily as he spotted an armed Predator Guard covering the exit closest to his position. The Yautja stood tall, strong, proud; as was the norm for their kind, though as well as its clan insignia, this one bore the marking of an elite. Yautja were not uncommon on Edridion Prime, they pretty much had their own district, but they mostly kept to themselves. Other world Yautja on the other hand came with a very distinct scent to them, the smell of death.

Casting his eyes over the rest of the nearby crowds, Flinch spied several other guards of the same clan closing slowly toward his position, they weren't elite, but they still carried the same insignia upon their armor.

"Shit!" he whispers.

"I beg your pardon?" says the bystander, turning around facing flinch in anger.

"Oh so now you're talking to me…?" Flinch says, his tail swishing, agitated.

"… _IT WON'T BE LONG NOW… THE LAST OF THE DEBRI IS BEING CLEARED FROM THE MAJOR ROUTES OF THE COURSE… THE UNLIMITED CLASS IS PREPPED AND READY, JUST WAITING TO BE CUT LOOSE… AAAND, YES WE JUST GOT THE GO AHEAD FROM THE LAST CLEAN UP CREW. THIS RACE IS READY TO GO!"_

* * *

A'ka'an-dra wasn't sure to make of the Kainde Amedha, it was armed, again a rarity for their kind as they weren't natural tool users, this one had clearly spent some time in the outer worlds. He held his sights on the Hive Guardians head for a moment longer, visually different from that of a drone by a slightly larger frame and several small spikes as well as different forming of their natural armor. Almost directly above the rogue, A'ka'an kept a steady bead on him as he began to act suspicious, he watched as it began scenting the air nervously, then looking around as if it expected to see something out of character. Sure enough, the Kainde Amedha froze as it spotted the missing elite, now standing guard at one of the entrances on this side of the track.

The Yautja specialist zoomed out a sector and watched as other guards began to move through the crowd toward the Kainde Amedha. They all seemed slightly nervous, but like they were trying to hide their emotion, being naturally adept at deceptive tactics, A'ka'an could spot this behavior a mile off. Something had been off about them ever since he had met the escort of Ku-rel guards the day previously. But they weren't the only nervous ones, as the unlimited class sleds began to power up, the Kainde Amedha guardian shifted nervously on his feet. He was probably more worried about the guards than they were of him, probably a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time more than anything else. The Kainde Amedha was no real threat, the Elites would have seen surely seen this by now, what was their game…?

As the mutated rumbling of dozens of modified power plants blended into one eye watering howl and echoed up the sides of the grandstands A'ka'an quickly moved his sights over to the opposite stand. He cursed under his breath, now the Rylt'ah, Da'xsh-el, had left the company of Gu'n-ka and his entourage as well.

"Where is that fucking Guard Chief…" he rested his aiming reticule upon Gu'n-ka for a moment, and right at that second, he knew he should have listened to the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He saw the whole thing first hand, right as the unlimited sleds roared from the start / finish line, Gu'n-ka's head exploded in a mess of bone and brain matter.

Before the panic could spread too far, A'ka'an quickly shifted his aim back to where the lone Guardian had been standing. For a split second, the Xenomorph stared right back at him, then with a flick of tail, he was gone.

"Fuck... FUCK!" A'ka'an-dra swore and lowered the Dreadnaught from his shoulder, his helmet automatically shifted the vision parameters back to normal, he watched helpless as the crowds surrounding the opposite high class stand begin to panic.

* * *

Fear and confusion quickly spread through the crowds in both grandstands, hundreds of race goers befuddled by the acts that were slowly playing out in front of them. As a gory image of Gu'n-ka's corpse flickered onto one of the massive screens, the horror stricken fans of one of the galaxies most brutal sports were sent packing out of their seats. If one fact was truer in the Edridion system

"Violence is answered only by violence."

The loud screaming and force of the rushing of the bystanders sent Flinch's senses into temporary confusion. He jerked his head down as he swiftly hissed and clutched his head, trying to calm his racing mind and take a hold of the situation in itself. After a few seconds, he swung himself around with a flick of his duster and scanned the ways out. To his sole misfortune, each and every way out was manned with heavily armed Yautja Guards. Looking mighty ticked in the wake of their leader's death. And no doubt wanting answers to the Yautja elders demise. Amid the panicked scents of everyone else, the pheromones of the Yautja that he had scented earlier carried through on a soft gust; there was something not quite right about the Elite.

"It's a good day to be a fuckin' Xeno…" Flinch hissed to himself, trying to bring a little light to his ever darkening situation.

As the population in the stands proceeded to decline, Flinch soon got his head together, realizing that the only way he could get past the guards was to blend in, as much as he possibly could at least. Spotting a large crowd on the tier above him overwhelming the guards who were trying to check each and every individual for weapons, Flinch gave a grin of certainty, knowing he could take advantage of such a situation.

With a flick of his tail, the Hive Guardian sprang onto a nearby pillar and bolted over the barrier and into the above stand. Checking both ways to make sure no creature had seen him, Flinch quickly slid into the tight squeeze crowd and began pushing and shoving to conceal himself from the guards. He needed more panic in order to make sure no one looked at him twice, pushing right into the back of the crowd, he put on a shaky voice, speaking just loud enough for a few by standers to hear.

"The guy who did it is in the tier below… I swear I saw explosives strapped to his body…"

It took a moment for it to sink in before the race goers started to violently shove and charge through the crowd, letting everyone know the assailant was nearby. Most just pushed straight through the Yautja Guards who were trying to frisk them, they looked angry and confused, like they had been told to do something that didn't make sense. In an effort to cease the resistance one of the Yautja guards began to swing his large arm and direct the panicking hordes back while his partner was trying to check each and everyone who passed. This proved useless. Such control was nearly impossible to obtain with the masses of terrified beings. Flinch moved with the crowd, not wanting to stay inside the stadium any longer than he had to. Once he got down to ground level and out into the area where all the food stalls were he would high tail it to the northern end of the grounds and sneak out one of the supply entrances.

Flinch kept his head low as he used a large being that was pushing in front of him as cover from the guards, the firm and 'angry for answers' voices of the guards began to increase in volume as he sensed he was getting closer and closer to the danger.

"Stop pushing! Creatures!" Roared one of the Yautja guards as he kept trying to hold back and check the charging crowds for weapons.

Flinch began to feel he was nearly out of dangers grasps. Now simply ducking as he slipped past one of the guards he felt his heart begin to calm and his nerves relax more.

His calming state quickly soon came to a crashing end when a large hand fastened onto his jacket collar with a powerful grip. In a matter of seconds the hive guardian was pulled out of the crowd and was violently slammed into the solid wall next to the exit. He hit so hard his head nearly bounced from the impact, Flinch let out a loud distinctive screech of pain as the impact dazed him.

"Where do you think you are going Hard Meat…!?" The Guard spoke with a loud tone. The words almost being muted out by all the other noises around him.

"We got a suspect! A bug!" He yelled back to the other guard who was now trying to hold back the crowd by himself, his effort only lasted a few moments before he was knocked aside, race goers flooding through the exit with no resistance.

"What are you trying to hide from insect…?" snarled the guard, reaching around to pull a set of binders from his utility belt. His partner quickly righted himself, arming his Naginata, and brandishing it mere inches from Flinch's neck.

"…Getting away from you… Ugly crab face mother fuckers…" mumbled Flinch, he would have spit on them if his head wasn't spinning so much.

The Hive Guardian tried hard to focus, he needed to push past the pain of his throbbing head and get free. Only a few seconds ago he was crystal clear from getting out of the grounds. Now he was stunned, pinned up against a cold, hard wall. Not to mention being bombarded with questions that were being answered for him by his no doubt, inexperienced, gullible captors.

"He must have done it. The slimy insect does not look like he is from around here, and he's armed to the teeth…" roared the guard with the spear, tapping it against the Hive Guardian's jacket. "Secure him; I will inform Da'xsh-el."

As the Yautja pinning Flinch by his arms was attempting to get the restraints from his belt, he was suddenly caught off guard by a powerful head butt.

"That's right, pussy face…" Flinch staggered, his head was already pounding, what was a little more impact trauma?

The rogue male teetered on his feet like a drunk before grasping onto the front of the guards armor and delivering another crunching head butt. Flinch shook his head, trying to clear his vision as he took a step back getting some space between himself and his captors. With a flash of movement, he used his tail to knock the guard to the ground whilst trying to stay upright himself. Flinch staggered again, collapsing backward into the wall holding his head in pain from the brush against the wall, not to mention the Yautja guard's head. He wasn't sure which was harder…

The guard armed with the Naginata pushed around his stunned comrade and thrust his weapon at Flinch who he saw as incredibly vulnerable at this moment in time. The spear shot past Flinch's waist, clean through his jacket and into the wall with great power. The rogue male hissed as he grabbed for his sawn off which was holstered on the left side of his coat, tearing his duster slightly which was impaled to the wall. His effort was suddenly stopped by his previous foe, using his weight to hold the Xenomorph's hands down so he couldn't take out his deadly close range weapon. This proved to be futile for the Yautja as Flinch simply sprung his knee forward, landing it square in stomach of the Yautja, knocking him backwards again.

Without another moment of thought, Flinch yanked out his weapon from its sewn in holster and unloaded a round into each guard. Instinctively, he cracked open the barrels and flicked out the spent shells, he looked at them as they clattered to the ground.

"White…? Fucking salt rounds…" he looked to the guards who were both writhing in pain. "Bloody hell… You don't know how lucky you are! I thought it was loaded with shredder shells…" Flinch said as he leant warily against the wall, catching his breath. He gritted his teeth through the pain of his pounding head as his hand dove into the pocket next to the shotgun holster and dug out two fresh shells.

He quickly reloaded the cut down weapon; this time with lethal shrapnel loaded shells and holstered it with one hand, while using his other to remove the Naginata that was still impaled in the wall and his dust coat. All the while the two guards were roaring and thrashing about in pain from the rock salt.

"Could you yell a little louder? I don't think the rest of Edridion heard you…" Flinch hissed as he swiftly kicked the guard he kneed in the belly unconscious with one quick blow to the head. "Send those Hecuzer fuckers my best wishes." Flinched laughed as he stumbled away as quickly as he could in his present condition.

For a solid two minutes the hive guardian pushed through the remaining beings flooding out of the grandstands into the vendor area where all the kiosks were set up. As he had thought, it was a similar bottle neck situation as hundreds of creatures tried to pour out the exits at once. The only ones who didn't seem to give a fuck were the handful of homeless rummaging through the betting slips for overlooked winners. Most of the panic driven race goers, who no doubt wanted to leave before the infamous Edridions showed up, had successfully fled the scene but there were still plenty of others to draw attention away from Flinch.

The rogue male's thoughts swam as he stole through the back of kiosks and in and out of cargo containers and over flowing rubbish bins. He needed to get to the north western exits, where the supplies came in and out, but the haunting feeling that he was going to be slain the second he walked out into the open just wouldn't leave his mind. The Entak Crew would no doubt be on the prowl, _as well as_ the Yautja that he had assaulted. Because the race had actually started, then been postponed, most book makers would refund all wagers, that meant, the book makers working for the Entak would be giving all the money back to the punters. Money that the Entak bookies brought in due to the odds that they drafted from _Flinch's_ tip off, and though it wasn't his fault the race got flagged, they would want to beat on someone none the less.

Flinch moved like the wind, mumbling to himself as he headed through thinning groups of race goers and some stadium workers as well. The distant roar of a pissed off sounding Yautja made him move even faster. Though as he was about to duck through an open gate, into the service area of the stadium grounds, nervousness made him look around behind him, back toward the vendor kiosks, making sure he wasn't being followed. Looking up for a brief moment, he titled his head sideways in question.

"What the fuck…?"

Out of nowhere, the Yautja sniper who he had seen briefly scouting from atop one of the outriggers leapt from the very top of the western grandstand, flung a rope over the massive support cable and began streaking toward the ground. Moments later, a few of the guards came into view pointing and shouting from the stadium roof, Flinch moved with the flick of his tail as they un-holstered their pistols, using the distraction to his advantage.

"Fuckers can chase him all they want… I'm off…" he hissed to himself

His mood was foul as he ducked through the open gate and around the corner of the western grandstand, entering the service area. He had just blown a whole lot of cash on the races, only to lose it all unfairly. It seems to always be the Yautja that fucked Flinch over. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but in a fit of rage the Xenomorph let out a loud roar. Stiffening his posture and clutching his fists. The thought of how much richer he would've been if the current events never unfolded was only adding to his anger.


End file.
